#revel in the title they threw in
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you're... me?
synopsis: the monster trio meet their older selves... but with a little spice
characters: luffy, zoro, sanji
genre: fluff, a little bit of cracks
warnings: a bit suggestive in sanji's part (bc you know... he's kind of a pervert)
masterlist. part two (coming soon)
luffy :
"Huh?" the black haired pirate frowned in confusion when he opened his eyes, "Where am I?"
The Straw Hat pirates were looking down at their older captain who laid on the bed inside Chopper's office. The younger Luffy looked at his older self with a frown, inching his face closer to his older self, "You... you look familiar..."
Without a doubt, he was an older Luffy. But the real question was more... how the hell did he ended up here?
The older Luffy adverted his eyes away from his younger self, his eyes widening at the sight. It was his crew standing in front of him, but somehow they all looked younger...
"What happened- did we beat that guy?!" He straightened up suddenly, catching the pirates off guard, "Tell me, Zoro- Did I beat him?"
The older captain looked at the swordsman with big eyes, making the green haired look at his crewmates in confusion, "Well... since you're here right now... I'd say no- you didn't beat the guy"
"Wha..." Old Luffy frowned, but visibly softened when he made eye contact with a familiar pair of eyes. He straightened his arms wrapping them around your body, making you send a look to your favorite navigator, "(Y/n)!"
He threw himself on your body, almost knocking your over in the process. Older Luffy wrapped his legs around your waist clinging into you like a Koala, "(Y/n), you tell me... did I beat the guy?"
Your older captain hid his face in the crock of your neck, causing your present captain to glare at his older self, "I'm not sure, Luffy, but-"
"Luffy...?" The older captain pulled away from your neck looking at you with teary eyes, "Are you mad at me?"
The Straw Hat pirates looked at their older captain... was he really crying?
"W-What?! Of course not!" You softly replied trying to calm him down as he sat on the ground, "Why do you think that?"
"B-Because you never call me Luffy!" The older captain whined- and to think that your captain would've matured over the years...
"What do I call you normally then?" You asked, fumbling backwards when Luffy wrapped his arms around your waist once more.
"You don't remember...?" Luffy quietly spoke, "You always call me love... or darling."
You blinked repeatedly in surprise. Do you really call your captain 'love' in the future?
Sanji almost fell on the ground at the revelation, putting two and two together. Zoro smirked slightly when he finally understood, he sent a knowing look at his present time captain as he asked, "And how do you call her, Luffy?"
"Hah?" The older Luffy frowned at the swordsman, "What do you mean, Zoro? I call her "(Y/n)" obviously! That's her name after all!"
Robin slyly smirked at the two, "And... what did you say your relationship with (Y/n) was?"
"She's my girlfriend!" Older Luffy stated proudly, "But you know that... you're the one who told me to confess-"
With a quick punch, the older Luffy got thrown away from you landing on his face as he hit the ground. The present time Luffy slowly walk in front of you, tightly clenching his fists, "Who the hell do you think you are?!"
The older Luffy jumped up, titling his head to the side, "I'm Luffy! The King of the-"
"I am Luffy!" Young Luffy pointed at his older self, "Clearly you are just a weird me- So you can't just hug her like that! We don't even know you!"
"Don't know me?!" Old Luffy walked so that he was now face to face to his young self, "She's my girlfriend you idiot- so back the hell up-"
"Luffy..." Usopp spoke up, placing a hand on his young captain's shoulder, "Let me explain something to you."
After what seemed like an eternity, young Luffy finally understood the situation. Much to his older self dismay- "Let go of her!- Hey don't touch me!-
The older Luffy was being held back by Zoro and Franky as he disparately tried to get his younger self off you.
"No." Young Luffy cockily smiled at him, his body pressed unto you with his face pressed against your chest, "She's my (Y/n)- so go find yours!"
zoro :
"Hah? You two aren't dating yet? Shit my bad."
The older green haired swordsman fakely apologized to his younger self and the pretty girl beside him.
You snapped your head to look a the present Zoro, your face turning into one of disgust.
"Dating?!" The flirty cook was glaring at the older swordsman from afar, not believing that the two of them could possibly bee dating in the futur, "And you expect us to believe that Marimo?!"
It was no secret for anyone, you and Zoro hated each other's guts. So the idea of the two of them dating was kind of hard to believe.
"Eh?" The older Zoro glared at the younger cook, "I don't care if you believe me or not! You, come with me." The older swordsman then grabbed the collar of his younger self, ignoring his complains as he pulled to a more isolated place of the Sunny away from the loud crew.
"The hell you want, old man-?" The young Zoro asked as they came to a stop.
The older swordsman took a deep breath, gripping harder on his younger self collar, "I want you to listen carefully to what I'm about to say, kid."
"Kid-?!"
"If you mess up what I have with (Y/n) now, I swear on her life that I will find a way to hurt you and make you regret it, are we clear?"
The two swordsman stared are each other, before the younger one broke their eye contact, "How did you... you know?"
The older one laughed loudly when his younger self looked away from him with the red on the tip of his ears, "How did I get with her you mean?"
"You know what- if you're here to laugh I can just-"
"Woah there kid- It was just a joked!" The older Zoro sighed happily, turning his gaze to look at the quiet sea, "I bought her a necklace."
"A necklace." The younger Zoro deadpan at his words, what type of cliché thing was that?!
"I asked Robin to tell me what my birthstone was... and well I bought her a necklace with a green topaz and she never took it ever since..."
The younger Zoro nodded at himself as if doing he was taking notes mentally. The older swordsman sighted once more, "Just don't be scared to show her how you feel- She's kinda oblivious so you're gonna have to tell her that you love her, though"
"Heh?! Who said that I loved her, old man?!"
"You're my mini me, idiot! Obviously I know how you feel!"
sanji :
"Is she- Is she as beautiful as we imagined?"
"Oh~ She's 10 times better then we imagined"
You stood beside Nami with a disgust expression on your face, "I think I'm gonna throw up."
"Pleaseeeee," The pretty ginger laughed, "As if you're not happy that you're dating the love of your life in the future."
"Nami. I told you that when I was drunk!" You hit her shoulder, "You can't use that against me!"
The young Sanji dropped on his knees in front of you, taking your hands in his, his usual charming smile plastering his face. "(Y/n)~ my sweet, beautiful angel please date me-" He got interrupted by his older self.
"You're doing it wrong." He pulled young Sanji off his knees, "Let me show you how to do it."
The older Sanji walked over you, taking your hand in his, while his other arm sneaked around your waist pulling you closer to him. Sanji's blue eyes flickered between your eyes and your mouth, "You have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen, my love..." He then leaned closer to your lips so that yours and his were brushing against each other.
"You're just... so mesmerizing-"
"Alright!! I get it! Get off her!" The younger Sanji ripped you away from his older self, pulling you against his clothed chest. "You can go back to see your future (Y/n)- this one's mine."
"I was just teaching you the basics, Sanji! No need to get all protective- I get to touch my (Y/n) all the time and anywhere!" Older Sanji lit up the cigarette in his mouth, "But if you want a real tip, take her on a stargazing date, tell her how beautiful she is- because you really are, my angel- and how badly you love her- AND then touch her however you'd like!"
"Watch your mouth!" Nami yelled at the older Sanji. Her eyes then drifted to her two friends who refused to even laid an eye on each other, "huh?"
"Don't worry, love," The older cook reassured the pretty ginger, "I assure you that (Y/n) is more than happy to be with me..."
"Really...." The navigator trusted Sanji with her life- she just didn't trust him with a woman- especially not when the woman is her best friend.
"Yeah," The older man chuckled as he watch his younger self starting to talk to you with blood oozing out of his nose, "She even asked you to be her maid of honour last week- I mean... In three years or so, she'll ask you to be her maid of honour... So have some faith in me, yeah?"
"Her maid of honour...?" Nami looked over at you, your face redder than normal as the younger Sanji whispered sweet nothings in your ears.
"Angel?" the younger cook spoke in your ears as he placed a hand ion your cheek, "Would you like to go stargazing with me tonight?"
You laughed quietly at his words, "Is that a subtle way of asking the permission of touching m-"
"Of course not!" Sanji straightened himself, "You're so much more than a pretty body... Everything about you is just amazing-"
"Ah what a shame..." "Why's that, my love?"
"I would've given you the permission to touch me~"
"(Y/n)! You can't say stuff like that! He'll bleed out!" Chopper yelled as her tried to stop the bleeding from the cook's nose.
"I'll see you tonight, my sweet angel~" Sanji screamed with heart eyes, ignoring the fact that he was bleeding out.
"No you won't!"
note: i love that trio so much ♡
#luffy x reader#sanji x reader#zoro x reader#the monster trio#luffy fluff#sanji fluff#zoro fluff#one piece imagine#one piece fluff#one piece x reader
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⊹ Tag! you’re it. ⊹
(5k wc!)
| SNEAK PEEK: “Fuck me. Almost forgot about her.” The brunette unslung the rifle over her shoulder and head. She threw it a small distance away from you two. The black Nula rifle skidded amongst the twigs, then stopped. You breathed a small sigh of relief amidst your mounting panic. Releasing the terror that it could go off while she fucked herself into you.
⊹ SUMMARY: The concept was simple really. It’s quite literally in the title of this fic. I’m sure you’re smart, reader. So I’m also sure you can deduce what she’s going to make you do. But in the rare chance you’re not that bright, I’ll help and spell it out for you.
You…need…to…run.
⊹ WARNINGS: Predator/prey kink. Strap-on use (reader receiving). Outdoor sex, very rough sex, mean as fuck!Dom Ellie, dacryphilia, ass-smacking, black-out, use of “cock” and “dick” and is referred to as Ellie’s, and other things you’ll have to read to see.
⊹ AUTHOR’S NOTE: Minors & puritans this is not the fic for you. Everyone else: make sure you read this at home. This is genuinely, not safe for work (or school!)
The truck skidded to a stop.
The acridness of burnt rubber twisted its way up your nose, reflexively making you scrunch. The russet haired brunette pulled the keys out of the ignition and slammed the truck's door shut. Her black converses made imprints onto the soft earth.
They were just a few of the many tracks to come.
The slam of the GMC door was like a boom in your head, yelling ‘WAKE UP!’
Laid beyond the car window was a terrifying picture of nature. The forest seemed like rows of shark’s teeth; jagged and everlong. Up along the bank, a crowded family of dark green spruce trees were huddled. Mottled like flecks against the horizon. Nothing could be seen but the green overlaid on top of the clear sky. The trees circumferenced along the bank like a protective dome, surrounding the truck.
This was her idea.
The brunette circled the clearing, her bangs blew softly in the wind. She fixed the M-11 sniper across her back, pulling the dual tabs of her corset webbing to tighten it to her torso. The NULA sniper was heavy. A matte black gun with a wide eyed scope. It was Ellie’s favorite. For hunting; both people and game.
Your girlfriend had known for several years that she’d never be a fan of small firearms. She reveled in the kickback of a sniper.
Firearms.
Running.
Rifle.
Chasing.
Polaroids of memory flooded your thoughts. Snapshots of Ellie pleading relentlessly to convince you to let her use you. Use your adrenaline and terror to scratch a deep deep itch within her. Like a flea ridden dog, your girlfriend had a parasite. And the parasite was the chase. It was a primal itch. One that’d been there since she was a younger girl. It teased along the blurred edges of sociopathy and sexuality.
If you’d really paid attention, you would’ve noticed that Ellie was a little…off. There was an aggression that ran congruent with her boyish teasing and fighting. An intuitive itch at the back of your brain often concluded that Ellie had always wanted to bend your arm back a little bit deeper during play fights. Because she too often enjoyed how quickly your laugh crumpled into yelps.
She’d let out a sudden chuckle during really tense moments, but you were subtly aware that Ellie could, and slyly tried, to get a bit more intense with the floor pinning, with the wall traps, with her power plays. And you suspected she liked it.
Ellie was an awe-inspiring girlfriend, so caring and so sweet; so tender. But you still couldn’t gauge where that hidden characteristic in her temperament came from.
Just how far would she really want to take it?
The surface tension of those memories rippled into obscurity like disturbed water. Leaving you to face the bitter nip of the cool air, and the earthy pine notes that carried itself on the wind.
Ellie had been spending her time studying you from across the distance. Trying to pick apart your thoughts from your micro-expressions. She debated on if the little crease between your brow was tense fear, or if it was exhaustion. Common sense advised her that it was exhaustion; you two had only come out here just an hour after dawn, naturally you’d feel drowsy or irate.
And that pleased her.
Tired would work in her favor. Tired would make you sloppy.
Ellie stepped deeper into the clearing. From your position in the passenger seat, you could see her attempt to feel for the direction of the wind, noting which direction it was blowing her hair. She used the sweep of the wind’s blow on her hair to navigate the direction of which path, in the dense forest, would give her the least resistance.
She planned to avoid that path.
She didn’t want this to be easy.
She didn’t speak. She didn’t have too. Ellie turned around slowly and rooted her feet into the soil. In spite of the distance, her gaze was piercing. She didn’t need to shout, but it was finally time to remove yourself from the safety of the truck.
You steadied yourself on the inside of the door, and used the pane to brace your knees before you dropped from out of the truck.
The sun was a high, white gold. Planting an opalescent sheen on the forest underbrush. It grew brighter and warmer the further behind you left the truck.
Towering above the underbrush, were thick alpine trees; the young and the old. Some of them were beyond being old, and were solidly antiquated. Likely as old as the entire forest itself.
Those alpines were the type of old that’d existed in that forest longer than Jackson town. The type of trees that had seen things not a soul nor an eye would have witnessed. Things, no history book had dared to make a record of.
And today, they saw you.
The sun was shining in her eyes. And she returned back to it her own venomous gaze.
Ellie’s ink moth tattoo moved each time her fingers steadied themselves on the bony juts of her hips. Her evergreen eyes blinked back down to study you once more.
In your timid mannerisms she microdosed on the pleasure of the run to come.
Your back straightened at her voice.
“To set this off, I ran the path six times since last sunday. Shouldn’t take you no longer than ten minutes, fifteen at your slowest. You take twenty minutes, and I come looking for you. Got that?”
Her eyes thinned, then relaxed.
“We’ve done similar patrols around the west wing of Jackson.”
“Like the group patrols and stuff right?”
Your answer was less than stellar.
She itched to grin at your reply, but killed it. Schooling her features back into a placid poker face. “Yeah sure. Those’ll definitely prepare you for today.”
Ellie started stalking behind you now. Eyeing the shoes you chose, how you shifted your weight from leg to leg, how your sleeves were longer than your fingers, and how your fingers fidgeted with its hem.
She pulled back from you. She pressed herself deeper into the gray and dull overcast from the trees. Shadowed by their height and mass, she shouted.
“You get a 120 second head start!”
The air was electric, like power lines running above you. Your fingers twitched, and your stomach tightened. And like a firing gun shooting into the air, she growled.
“RUN!”
Your feet pounded at the earth as your skin braced the whipping wind. Jackson’s forest was miles upon piles of jade. It was a claustrophobic cornucopia of trees. The underbrush scraped your legs with each step you took on the illuminated path of the forest floor. Light speckled from the patterned leaves above you, it looked like a kaleidoscopic.
The earth beneath your shoes was beaten flat from the steps of hikers and runners long before you ever came sprinting down. You’d hiked this path, but hiking and sprinting were light years apart. And the staggering imbalance of the terrain was sending shock waves up your legs. You braced it, a mantra looping in your head like your very life depended on.
Just run.
Your breaths were starting to sound heavier and heavier. Worsened by the regret that was creeping up all the same. Jackson had a system of 5am running patrols that were outlined by Maria on the town’s bulletin. Patrols that you could’ve put your name down for. Ellie did them often, just a short lap around Jacksons gates. She always told you it was only “15 minutes tops”, yet you always regarded that time as an extra 15 minutes to sleep in. Realization dawned on you just as quick as your feet turned around a large spruce tree.
That 15 minutes of running truly did add up.
Just run.
A climbing crescendo of snapped twigs and rustling leaves was all that could be heard whipping about. Louder and louder. Heavier and heavier. An orchestra of sounds; of your heartbeat. Of a burning pain from a persons forceful sprint. Someone was panting, fighting, clawing their way out of Jackson’s forest. You were the someone, but your legs were growing tired.
Your calves were burning as your pace increased, the ache was clawing into the muscles in your lower legs like hot iron. The pain bloomed into your thighs and coiled itself into the pit of your lower belly. It left your breath wheezing and dry.
Sweat broke out on your hairline. Perspiration that would drip down to sting your eyes if you didn’t get home in time. You needed to get home fast. Just as long as you got there before her. Just as long as you beat Ellie to Jackson’s gates, you’d be fine.
All you could do was just run.
You slowed to a stop and cleared a log, you straddled it, holding the large body to steady yourself, before swinging your leg off and hopping back onto the ground. You weren’t nimble. Your girlfriend would’ve cleared the trunk with just the push of her left arm. But you were desperate, anything to not be her prey.
Just run.
Your ears picked up on it, before your brain could process it. The sound was unmistakable. Those were Ellie’s footsteps.
Clearing the log had closed the space between you. This chase was a burning thread. Growing shorter as the distance between you two also grew shorter. Ellies footsteps sounded heavier, more hurried. She could finally hear you too.
You pushed past the haze of pain and ran out of the forest, onto the rocky asphalt in front of the abandoned highway. You slid down the ditch, scraping your palms along before tumbling into a shaky sprint. The abandoned cars in the ditch were as much obstacles as they were protection. But up ahead, growing bigger with every step, were the gates; pillars of protection and strength.
The same voice whispered sharply into your concious, reminding you to
just run.
The only caveat was that Ellie’s conscience was telling her the
exact same thing.
She was behind you. But you couldn’t care where or how far Ellie was. You’d deduced that the strewn jagged pebbles had slowed her down. Converses didn’t work nearly as well on rocky terrain. The rhombus sole could tightly pack gravel and pebbles inside of it, which made for an uneven run.
Jackson’s steep wood gates appeared even larger. A good — no — a great thing. To be dwarfed by Jackson’s gates meant that you were near them. Nearer to the town than you had been a mere minute ago; yet again, still with no Ellie in tow.
You relaxed your sprint into a cursory jog. The relief that coursed through you was electrifying. A tired grin threatened to leap off your face. You were burning, but the chase wasn’t nearly as hard as you had suspected it to be, and for that your nervous system was flooded with relief.
You were so close. Just a few more steps and the lap would be cleared.
Ellie shouldn’t have given you that head start. Jesus, that girl could be so arrogant.
The dual gates were close enough to feel their shade. You took another deep breath, and stretched your arms out. The breeze cooled your skin. The relief from the concluded chase blew a spirit of new life into you. You were done! you had won Ellie’s sick little game of tag.
Now, what you would give to head down to the tavern and ask for a mug of sweet tea and some soft brea—
—Ellie slammed into you, crumpling you to the ground. A tiny yelp ripped out of you like a pathetic puppy. She dug her elbow into the small of your back to put you down, before switching tactics. She instead chose to slide her hand up and grip the back of your neck. She shoved your face into the ground. Holding you down in submission.
“Tag. you’re it.” She giggled.
Your shocked scream was muffled by the ground. Like some hunted doe, only your eyes could communicate. And they strained painfully to the right, hoping to see what the hunter was doing. The pain in the base of your spine ebbed as Ellie removed the puncture of her left knee from your back. She dropped into a crouch. But her hands slid down your back, then down your thighs, then to your knees where she gripped the sides of the joints and forcefully shoved them apart.
In the quiet of the dawn, you were more than a sight to see. You were a picture of desire to drink in, and a terrifying desperation possessed Ellie.
You should’ve ran faster.
Ellie inched all ten knuckles under the band of your jeans, she struggled to shove down your pants and underwear, grunting curses under her breath.
“No way in hell you were convinced you actually had a chance to win against me. I don’t think you realize how much I had to hold myself back. Couldn't let it be that easy for myself.”
Your breath came out ragged.
Ellie loved that.
She barely managed to shove the waist of your pants underneath the crease of your ass cheeks. But seeing as what she managed left her with just the necessary amount of space she needed to work with, it was certainly good enough.
“Honest question.” She paused for a moment and surveyed you. Her hand curled in the air “just to get this straight, were you jogging the entire lap or were you actually sprinting it? I just couldn’t tell.” She mocked.
The sneer her lips curled into was wicked.
But her violence even moreso.
Ellie slapped your ass harshly, intently drinking in the recoil. You yelped and jerked across the dirt. She lunged across to clamp the back of your neck, eyes piercing.
“Stay.”
The sound of a zipper being pulled down made you struggle in her grasp. Your head was scrambling from side to side to better see her. Picking up strewn leaves to tickle the bottom of your lips.
Ellie was having none of it. The fist on your neck squeezed tighter.
She tsk’d next to your ear, your first and now your final warning. She refused to repeat herself a second time.
If only you could’ve seen what she saw. Ass up, face down, bent like some bitch in heat. You were presenting yourself. Your left cheek was squished against the grass and leaves. And your ass was tempting and teasing itself in her face, globes split apart.
God, you didn’t know, but you’d looked so pathetic. Like you were just waiting to be topped. And if that was what you really wanted, then who was Ellie to deny you that?
A wicked grin bloomed onto her face, replacing the sneer.
One phrase boomed in her head.
…my bitch.
Ellie’s.
You were made to be Ellie’s bitch.
Ellie pulled out the harnessed cock, it had a real fat, girthy shaft. With a long vein running along the underside. She drooled at the fantasy of how it’d tug against your tight rim. She slid the dick atop the split of your ass cheeks. Rutting it up and down. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but she swore she saw you roll your hips onto it.
“Fuck me. Almost forgot about her.” The brunette unslung the rifle over her shoulder and head. She threw it a small distance away from you two. The black rifle skidded amongst the twigs, then stopped. You breathed a small sigh of relief amidst your mounting panic. Releasing the terror that it could go off while she fucked herself into you.
Holding her dick against your ass really let her hips take a break from the weight of it. You were such a good doe, letting her warm it between the globes of your ass cheeks. Taking her thumb and forefinger, Ellie angled her tip down, She gave shallow thrusts, reveling in the wet slide of her cock against your labia. She just needed a few more ruts against the slick, to get it as wet as she wanted.
Nimble as ever, the hunter slightly leaned back onto her calves. The bulbous tip of her cock inched back and dragged itself down the expanse of your labia, from clit to hole. Until it caught against the rim of your hole. It barely nudged inside. But the feeling of the tip pressing against it, reflexively made your hole clench a kiss on its head. Ellie whistled at the scene.
Heaven on earth is what this was to her.
“Would you look at that? You want it huh? Can tell by how you’re sucking it in.”
It turned Ellie on so much, seeing her dick just barely touch your hole, just prolonging what you both knew was to come. She was feeling a little violent again, so Ellie cracked another sharp slap on the meat of your ass. The heat and twinge from it, made your eyes widen. A blistering handprint was left where she slapped you. Tears started burning at the back of your eyes and you gasped in a panic. Your reactive jerk from her smack, involuntarily slipped the first inch of her cock into your hole. Your slick coated just the head. Wetness was slowly starting to slip down your walls. And it dripped past the seal of your vagina and coated the top of Ellie’s tip.
Not even pornography could compare; because to the eyes of anyone who could see, the scene between you and her was in every sense of the word: obscene.
You struggled against the grass again. Giving her a beautiful performance of a hunt gone well. Doe-eyed prey shaking fitfully against the grass. Ellie’s intimidating presence dwarfed everything in its path like a dark shadow.
She draped her chest over your back and laid her cheek to rest atop your planted head. Ellie slowly lined up her freckled lips with your ears. It could’ve almost looked like a caress; a sleepy embrace between two lovers. Where one whispered ‘good morning, you up honey?’, and the other grumbled lowly ‘mhm. Just 5 more minutes my love.’
But nothing that came out of her mouth was sweet.
Ellie whispered very lowly.
“I’m begging you—to try to fight me off.”
And with that, and a ghost of a kiss to the shell of your ear; Ellie thrusted the shaft inside, groaning her own pleasure over the shout you yelped into the ground. A sudden intrusion, as alarming as that was, could only be described as malice.
She slowly pumped in more inches of her cock until she felt a strong resistance. She kept testing it, pounding sharp pumps to see if there would be any further give. Each attempt pulled a muffled “n’moh it won’ fit phleese” out of you.
You dug into the grass.
Ellie’s beautiful features transformed into a quizzical frown. Her bushy eyebrows, her full pink lips, and her usually cherubic cheeks, wrinkled in to display a strong feeling of ... .disappointment. There were at least a few inches left of her hungry cock that weren’t warmed inside that slick tight pussy hole.
Why couldn’t you take all of it?
She furrowed her brows, dug her nails tightly into the fat of your hips, and hurriedly bullied her girthy cock into you. She couldn’t help but revel in the way each thrust pulled a yelp out of you like a kicked bitch.
Maybe those weren’t yelps from your lips, but instead muffled moans….
Ellie couldn’t really tell, and regardless, she definitely didn’t care.
Her thrusts were heavy, punchy. There was no space to spare inside of you. Her shaft was molding your hole to fit around its thickness. The cockhead squished against your cervix, pulling a new type of soreness with each pull of it.
“Uhn! Uhn! Uhn! Uhn!”
You drooled on the grass. You took the rhythmic pounding up your abused cunt. Your puffy cervix was leaving wet kisses on the tip of Ellie’s dick, which pulled even more slick from the tiny donut.
“That’s right. Uhn! Uhn! Uhnn! for me baby. Cry just like that. You like being tackled and fucked rough don’t you? Sloppy cunt.”
She mocked.
She was right, it was so sloppy. Your walls were practically drooling along her shaft; and trust her, she could feel it.
Ellie slowly pulled her cock out, only to marvel upon the gorgeous coating of slick that sparkled in the early sunlight. Your milk had pooled along the veins and ridges of her shaft.
There was a creamy mousse ring that wrapped around the base of her balls, frothing from the thrusts.
Ellie had a perverted temptation to taste a bit of that milky coating. The thing was, it wasn’t new to her, she’d gotten a taste of it many times before.
Chuckling to herself, she slid it back in. But with complete knowledge of how intensely full you’d feel, Ellie leaned down to drape her chest across your back once more.
She positioned her torso atop yours, digging her fingers into the dirt on either side of your head to get a solid grip. Dried leaves and grit collected under her fingernails and painted them specks of amber and brown. Her sweaty bangs were sticking to her face now. And they curved around her hairline as she barked a laugh at each rough pounding you took, like her sweet girl.
“So fucking—”
Thrust.
“Fun”
Thrust.
“Watc-hing you—”
Thrust.
Her voice cracked, pounding you was bumping her swollen clit just right.
“Run like.”
Thrust.
“Some weak little prey.”
She replaced her grip in the dirt with finding purchase on top of your hands. She slid her fingers in between yours and interlocked them. She squeezed your fingers between her own, you weakly squeezed hers back. The hunter above you, found just the right footing to put her full body weight into fucking you, and now you felt the stretch and fullness everywhere, everywhere.
No space inside of you was spared.
Who knew hunters could be so mean?
“You feel that? Is it stretching? I wanna know if it burns.” She gruffed.
Yes, yes, and yes. A weepy eyed ‘yes’ to all three.
All you could feel was her. Her cock was nudging past the sensitive swell of your g-spot, bruising the area with her pounding.
How could you not feel it?
Every ridge of her dick pulled muted squeals out of you. And despite how much your neglected clit cried for attention and touch from between its sloppy lips, there was a fiercely intense pleasure that radiated around your body. And the evidence was the strings of glossy slick drooled onto the grass patch below you two. The same slick ran down the underhaft of her cock as she pumped inside you, and collected at the base of her heavy balls. Balls that were building a bruise on your ass, with each stinging connect of her hips to your butt.
Ellie’s sighs and moans were pitching a variation of high and low tones. Huffing like a dog in heat because of how good it felt to be inside of you.
God, the strap was fucking her back. Her brain was growing fuzzy, heavy, needy.
Catching her prey to fuck it, had her mind unraveling.
Who was the bitch now?
“H-hey.” She breathed out
“Your sloppy hole feels s’good. Tiny, tiny pussy clamping on my cock. You making me work for it baby? Work hard to fu— fuck inside of you.”
She screwed her eyes shut. The intensity grew stronger.
“I’ll work as hard as I need to stu-stuff your sloppy holes” she slurred. Her green irises rolled to the back of her head.
Ellie’s grip on top of your hand considerably tightened, which had seemed almost impossible, given their already iron lock.
Ellie rolled her pale hips in shallow circles, grinding inside of you. The friction against your g-spot was dizzying, and from where your nose was shoved in the grass, you grew lightheaded.
As Ellie’s cock made your walls plump and swell, Your vision was slowly growing spotty. Little black dots were dancing across the expanse of your vision. It was unfortunate how little you could breathe, because the barks of pain and whimpers of pleasure that you wanted to release would’ve made Ellie cum on the spot right then.
“Love your pretty pussy. It’s pretty, it’s all mine. All for me. Tiny hole that I get to stuff full of dick—wanna chase and stuff you every day. I wanna be the only one in-inside you. Does my dick hurt your tummy? Want it to hurt you so good. Sorry, m’sorry, but I-I want it to hurt so good.”
Ellie was frantic and erratic. Fever brained and pussy drunk beyond the horizon. She sloppily slurred all her little fantasies in your ear.
The edges of your vision were graying out, your eyes glazed. If Ellie had noticed, she didn’t care.
Instead she obsessed herself with the way she was molding a home for her thick cock in your puffy walls. The same walls were puffy and deep pink inside.
Each thrust from her slender hips was like a zing that dragged pleasure down the ribbed walls. Pressure was building up severely in your tummy, and you were overcome with a strong urge to clamp.
You choked your last whimpering moan into the dirt, and finally let the tension go. Slick milky cum seeped from the seal of your sensitive hole and burst onto the base of her dick. It was frothing and glossy.
Your eyelids grew suddenly heavy. Your vision was tunneling, there was a gray and fuzzy halo around it that obstructed its clarity. You could only make out blurry shapes and colors, only the soft light of the day, just before you relaxed and sleepily went limp.
You had been fucked into a heavy slumber, yet your lower half was still being held up by the girl with the cock inside of you.
She didn’t let up.
Ellie kept fucking you. Frantic and greedy for her own orgasm in your pussy. She needed to be inside of it just a little longer.
She picked up her pace, relishing in the sweet feel of the cockbase smacking her clit. Ellie felt the same pressure in her own vagina rising. Her clit was just as swollen, just as puffy, just as wet and glossy as your hole was on the inside. And Ellie sought a few more angry thrusts to get her over the edge. She snapped her hips forward, and each time you jerked forward in the grass, with your lips forming an “o” and your eyes gently closed.
Thrust.
“Fuck!”
Thrust.
“Please please please.”
Thrust.
“—Prett-pretty my pretty pussy all mine.”
Thrust.
“Sososo tight.”
Thrust.
“Ughhhh!…”
A groan grizzled from her throat.
Ellie squirted spurts of her release down her thighs. Her eyeballs rolled backwards until they were white and veiny, and her hips stuttered with each squirt.
She came all over her skinny jeans.
Her chest rose and fell dramatically as she sucked in deep gulps of air. Ellie’s toned abs contracted with her breathing, clenching and relaxing. Over and over did the muscles dance until her breathing slowly steadied itself.
The hunter pulled out of you and tucked herself back inside her jeans. She barely zipped her pants up, leaving the slick base of her veiny dick still visible to the world’s eyes. She couldn't find it within herself to care, not even a tiny bit.
The NULA rifle was strewn amongst the grass, and its owner walked the short distance to pick it up from the grass. She picked it clean. Wiping the dirt off of it, and blowing off the stuck grass. She stationed the NULA by her hip again, and walked back towards your limp body.
Crescent moon sharpie doodles were scribbled onto the dirty toe box of her converses. The doodles you’d drawn for her one frigid October evening, an entire calendar year ago.
Ellie had found that so endearing, but even then she had been too shy to admit it at the time.
She surely wasn’t shy now.
Despite the fact that her preferred celestial body was still stars, she still held your insistence on decorating her shoes, near and dear to her heart. It had been one of those slow and scary, ‘I think I’m falling in love with you’ moments, that had pivoted the direction of your relationship, unbeknownst to either of you.
Ellie took those same converses and nudged your shoulder. Several times in fact.
In your deep slumber, your body had only moved with the motion of her foot.
A whistle twinkled from her pout.
“….And you’re out cold.”
She reached for your arm “okay come on—get up.” And slung you over her shoulder. It was awkward, it wasn’t easy. The sniper wanted about as much space on Ellie’s slender frame as you did. But she had to make it work. Better than patrollers finding you in the grass with your ass split wide open and your pussy dripping slick like a snail. So she dragged her feet as she carried you, and held the gun parallel to her body.
But she managed to make it work.
She managed all the way to the gates. where she slipped through the back. Your privacy was something she could never risk, no matter how much she reveled in this game.
She managed into Jackson town.
And then into her house, and then into her room, and then into her bed where she tucked you under the covers, so you could sleep the adrenaline and full body orgasm off.
The lull in her messy room was quiet.
It felt like no more than a warm hub, for you and your bold lover. Ellie was tired to her bones, but she worked on the keys of her guitar as you slept.
You’d mewled in your sleep from time to time. And she felt slightly guilty, slightly. She knew you’d wake up just fine. With a bad limp and maybe an attitude to last the day, but still mostly fine.
Ellie dropped her chin onto the guitar, and rolled herself back and forth in her chair.
She mulled over it in her mind, how it’d be kinder of her to just…pull back from time to time. Just so you weren’t wincing in your sleep from the ache. But then she pouted; unsure of herself.
Didn’t you like it when she was mean?
She plucked a key, F major, then B minor. A momentary pause, before her nails hesitantly strummed the strings. They still didn’t sound right. So she tuned them again.
She broke her gaze away from the strings to briefly check on you. You were a sniffling lump underneath her sky blue sheets.
Her chest squeezed at the image.
She knew it was sappy, it was lame. It was the feeling of impassioned affection; of love.
“I know you’ll love this one, whenever you decide to wake up…dork.” She teased.
Ellie strummed the string once again, meditating on the key. She cleared her throat, and whisper-sung her favorite part.
“Shall I stay? Would it be a sin, if I can’t help…” she sucked in a breath, and her cheeks dusted pink. Embarrassed even with no one to bare witness. But this song had best encompassed the ocean of her feelings.
“…Falling in love with you.”
She dropped her head against the body of her guitar.
And smiled into it.
-fin-
#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams#ellie#ellie williams x you#ellie williams x y/n#ellie williams smut#the last of us x reader#the last of us x you#the last of us smut#the last of us#ellie the last of us#tlou x reader#tlou smut#tlou fanfiction#tlou#the last of us fanfiction#tlou2#ellie tlou#tlou part 2#tlou x y/n#tlou hbo#ellie tlou2
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TWTHH Spinoff: Take Me Away [1]
Pairing: private investigator!Wooyoung x courtesan!reader
AU: historical au (Joseon era)
Word Count: 5k
Trigger Warnings: forced prostitution
Summary: While working on a new case in town, Wooyoung was captivated when he stumbled upon a beauty unlike any other. Just as he began to believe that he might have found a Lady Park of his own, word got out that she was merely the newest courtesan at the town's brothel. Disheartened by this revelation, he nearly abandons his pursuit of her until he hears whispers suggesting that she may not have been there of her own will.
A/N: As stated in the title, this is a spinoff. If you have yet to check out the main story, it's probably better to read that before starting this.
Main Story | Spinoff Masterlist | Part 2
"If you're just going to hide in the corner and not even attempt to attract potential clients, then make yourself useful and collect my new hair accessories from this shop," commanded Iseul, one of the more senior courtesans, as she handed you an invoice listing her orders for specific designs.
Rather than protesting or attempting to evade the task as she had anticipated, you enthusiastically agreed, "Of course, unnie!" before taking the document from her and dashing out of the brothel.
"Thank heavens. Anything to escape that dreadful place," you whispered to yourself, clutching the parchment close to your chest. You were relieved to be away from the hellhole that was supposed to be your new home, even if only for a bit.
Instead of keeping an eye out for the shop whose name and address were stated on the invoice, all you could concentrate on was the sight of ordinary people living their lives freely. You remembered once dreading the idea of having to marry out of obligation once you reached a certain age, but now you would gladly choose that life over this one. At least then, you would only belong to one man instead of any man willing to pay for your company or... services now.
Had you known a week ago how drastically your life would change, you would have run away from home much sooner. You should have done it earlier, if only it weren't for your tender, foolish heart that still felt sorry for your deadbeat father. He had done nothing but drink and gamble away all the money you earned from washing dishes at a nearby food stall. And all of that just for him to sell you off to a brothel when he realised he had no money left to pay off his debts.
A week before today, he stumbled home reeking of alcohol and vomit after being gone all night. He moved to drag you to your feet while you were tidying up the shabby little home you had grown up in, his tight grasp tearing a hole in the thin, worn hanbok clinging to your frail frame. You struggled against his hold, crying out, "What in god's name are you doing, father?! Let me go!"
Confused about his intentions, as he typically treated you as if you were invisible and only approached you when he needed money, you received no response. He dragged you toward the entrance and threw you out, causing you to land roughly on the ground.
As you gazed at the expensive fabric before you, you looked up to see a well-dressed woman with heavy makeup smirking down at you, "You'll do just fine. Thank you, Mr. Han. We accept your payment. I hope you're comfortable with never seeing her again, unless you decide to pay the Mansion of Midnight a visit, of course."
Your heart stopped in recognition of the name. The Mansion of Midnight—the notorious brothel that had haunted your nightmares since you were old enough to understand its existence.
You couldn't believe it.
Refused to believe it.
How could your father do this to you? How could he sell his own daughter to such a place just to pay off his debts?
Anger and disbelief surged within you as you struggled to process the enormity of his betrayal. Tears welled up in your eyes as you fought against the overwhelming sense abandonment. Clutching the torn fabric of your hanbok, you felt a profound sense of loss and despair. This wasn't the life you had imagined for yourself, and yet here you were, thrust into a nightmare from which there seemed to be no escape.
Turning to look at him, you knew all hope was gone when you found him waving his hand dismissively in response to the woman you now recognised as the brothel madam, "Whatever, so long as this means my debts are cleared. Just take her and go."
His callous words pierced through you like a knife, confirming what you had feared deep down. There would be no rescue, no redemption in his eyes. He was willing to sacrifice you without a second thought, all for the sake of his own selfish reasons.
Disgust and rage bubbled up inside you as you stared at him, unable to comprehend how a father could abandon his own flesh and blood in such a manner. The man you once hoped would someday change for the better was now nothing more than a heartless stranger.
I guess I'm the fool for staying.
With a heavy heart, you turned away from him, silently vowing to never forgive him for his betrayal. In that moment, you knew you were alone in this world, left to fend for yourself in a cruel and unforgiving reality. But despite the overwhelming despair that threatened to consume you, you refused to give up hope. You would find a way to survive, to reclaim your dignity and freedom.
Now, trapped in this place, you cursed yourself for even pitying him when you should have abandoned him, just like your mother did when you were merely a child. She left him for someone who could offer her a better life, one with no room for you. She left you with this sorry excuse of a man. Sometimes, you wonder why they bothered bringing you into this world in the first place, just for you to endure a life filled with so much unhappiness.
Lost in thought and unaware of your surroundings, a startled gasp escaped your lips as your shoulder bumped into another man's, causing the parchment in your hand to slip to the ground along with a few items belonging to him, "Oh dear, I'm terribly sorry! I should have been more attentive. Here, let me help you gather your belongings," you apologised hastily, scrambling to collect his things while he did the same. Your movements paused when he accidentally grabbed your hand as you both reached for the same item.
"It's fine, my lady. Let me take care of it—"
As you lifted your heads to meet each other's gaze, your breath caught in your throat upon making eye contact. While you internally chuckled with a mixture of disbelief and sadness, realising how romantic this first encounter with this good-looking stranger could have potentially been if only you were an ordinary girl, he was too captivated by your beauty to utter a word.
So beautiful.
As Wooyoung took in the stunning lady before him, his heart skipped a beat. After encountering a woman as beautiful as Lady Park, he had almost resigned himself to the idea that he wouldn't find anyone more gorgeous. Yet, today, he found hope as he marvelled at you.
Judging from your initial reaction upon bumping into him, you were clearly not some rich little spoiled brat. There was a genuineness about you, a humility that spoke volumes to him.
Now, he just had to put his investigator skills to good use; find out who you were, which house you hailed from, and whether you were betrothed to another. If all went according to plan, he envisioned courting you, and perhaps, finally experiencing what it was like to have the kind of connection General Park and his wife shared—a love that transcended time and circumstance.
With determination in his heart, Wooyoung made a mental note to uncover the identity of this intriguing woman. You were a rare gem amidst the chaos of this world, and he was determined to unravel the mystery surrounding you.
As his gaze lingered on you, self-consciousness crept in. What if he was seeing through your identity? What if he knew the kind of job you were meant to be doing? The thought made you uneasy. Was that why he couldn't take his eyes off you? Perhaps it was his first time seeing a courtesan up close?
He could be disgusted for all you knew.
Blinking rapidly, you pulled your hand away and hurriedly stood up. Without giving him another chance to speak, you bowed deeply and politely excused yourself. You could still feel his intense stare burning into your back as you ran off, eager to get away from him for fear of his potential reaction when he realised what you were.
Tears of frustration blurred your vision as you struggled to focus on finding the damn shop you were meant to visit. Your heart felt heavy with hopelessness, knowing that thanks to your father, your life would never be the same. It was ruined now, irreversibly altered by his selfish actions.
Even if you were to somehow make your escape from this nightmare, your reputation would forever be tainted by this part of your history. There was no way you'd be able to hide the truth from anyone—the truth that you were once a courtesan at the Mansion of Midnight. The thought filled you with despair. No one would ever be able to accept you, nobody decent ever would.
Each step felt like a burden as you trudged along the unfamiliar streets. The world seemed bleak and unforgiving, with no glimmer of hope on the horizon. You felt utterly alone, with nowhere to turn and no one to confide in.
Help. Somebody, please help me.
Watching the mysterious, beautiful stranger he had encountered run off in the opposite direction, the investigator felt his heart pound in his chest. He tried to commit the image of your angelic features to memory, already excited to learn more about you.
For once, after completing his last assignment at the general's estate, he felt a glimmer of hope. Seonghwa had dismissed not only him but also Yunho and Hongjoong as soon as his grand wedding ceremony in the palace ended, expressing his desire for some alone time with his beloved wife. It seemed like everyone was moving on with their lives; the last Wooyoung had heard, the physician had returned to his clinic, and the dressmaker had resumed operations at his shop, both happy to grant the couple their much-needed honeymoon.
Except for him.
He had missed the thrill of working for the great General Park. While he loved his job, no other cases could ever compare to the adrenaline rush of working for his role model. Besides, that wasn't the only perk; he also had the opportunity to see the beautiful Lady Park nearly every day. He had been feeling bored, merely going through the motions with his current case until now.
His passion for investigating was reignited.
Screw his current case; it wasn't that important anyway. He had been hired by some wealthy old noblewoman to investigate whether her husband was cheating on her. It was while he was tailing the sleazy old man that he found himself in this part of town. But it looked like his new employer's case would have to take a back seat for now. Perhaps he should thank the old couple; otherwise, he wouldn't have stumbled upon his new dream girl today.
Yes, his new dream girl, because until just moments ago, that position had been occupied by Seonghwa's wife. Luckily for him, the general never discovered his tiny crush on her; otherwise, leaving the estate unscathed might have proven difficult. Jongho and Hongjoong had graciously kept his secret, for which he felt eternal gratitude. For his sake, he sincerely hoped the two would carry this secret to their graves. After all, he now has a new goddess to worship.
Without wasting a moment, Wooyoung immediately approached the people around him who had witnessed his accidental collision with you. Although most shook their heads, claiming they didn't recognise you, he tried not to be discouraged. With his skills, he knew he could gather all the information he needed in no time.
That night, he returned home and sketched the enchanting features he still vividly remembered before going to bed. His mind buzzed with the possibilities of who you could be. The following day, he planned to inquire again, armed with the drawing he had created. As the famous investigator Jung Wooyoung, he believed there was nothing he couldn't find if he set his mind to it. And now, he was investing even his heart into it.
The next morning, he rose extra early, having barely slept as endless thoughts of the mysterious beauty consumed his dreams throughout the night. He hastily devoured the breakfast prepared by his servants, bid his parents goodbye, and rushed out of his family estate toward that part of town once again. Eager to learn more about you immediately, he clutched the drawing tightly in his hand, feeling a glimmer of hope.
As he questioned people with the help of his sketch, some claimed to have seen you around but didn't know enough about you to provide further details. Nonetheless, it was a promising start. Surely, as he ventured closer to where you first emerged the day before, he would come across people who knew you.
True enough, it didn't take long for him to find someone who recognised the sweet face from his drawing. The middle-aged man smirked as he glanced at the parchment in Wooyoung's hands, "She's quite the beauty, isn't she? That, right there, is the newest recruit at the Mansion of Midnight."
"The Mansion of Midnight...?"
"Yes, it's the most well-known brothel in town, young man. Don't tell me you haven't heard of it? I suppose your young age explains it. Most of the patrons are older men, but I expected you would at least have heard of it. If you're looking for a future wife, she might not be the one for you. Beautiful as she is, she's merely a courtesan. Go find yourself a proper lady, son."
Disappointment crashed over him like a wave, his heart plummeting at the revelation. A courtesan...? All his idealistic fantasies of courting you shattered in an instant. He should have realised it was too good to be true. How could he have thought he found his own Lady Park so easily? With a heavy heart, he stuffed the piece of paper back into his pocket and trudged away, head bowed in shame. What would his parents or friends think if they knew he had been foolish enough to pursue a worker from a brothel?
Determined to rid his mind of thoughts of you, he committed himself to refocusing on his current case. In the following days, he threw himself into his work, seeking distraction like a heartbroken man. He constantly reminded himself that it was irrational to feel such strong emotions for someone he barely knew. Deep down, he knew that his infatuation was only with an idealised version of you, and not the actual you. Yet, despite this awareness, he still struggled to let go.
With a sigh, he scolded himself for letting thoughts of you distract him again while tailing his employer's husband. Shaking his head, he forced himself to focus on the task at hand—to observe the old man's interactions and track his movements. His heart sank as he realised the intimidating building his target eagerly approached. Numerous women, adorned in heavy makeup and revealing hanboks, lingered near the entrance, attempting to attract potential clients. The words 'Mansion of Midnight' adorned a large sign in the centre of the establishment, with red curtains billowing out from open windows of various rooms on the upper floors.
Of course, it had to be here.
Suddenly, a dreadful thought struck him.
He shuddered at the possibility of you being the company his target had been seeking all along. The mere idea felt repulsive—a vision of that old man with his hands all over your delicate form. He turned to leave, no longer willing to entertain such sickening scenarios involving you. At least the case was closed. He had obtained the answers his employer sought; her husband had been frequenting the brothel. Whether or not that constituted cheating would be for her to decide. He was finished and wanted to put as much distance between himself and this place as possible.
As he tried to leave the area, his steps faltered when he overheard a conversation between a stall owner and their customer, "Have you heard about the new courtesan at the Mansion of Midnight? I heard the poor thing is there against her will, that's why she always looks so sad. Apparently, her father sold her to settle his debts—"
That was all he needed to hear before a pang of regret pierced his heart. Why hadn't he investigated more thoroughly? Why had he given up on you so easily? If that were true, you must have been terrified. The idea of your own father doing this to you made his blood boil. Suddenly, he found himself understanding General Park's fury towards the former Minister Jang all too well.
Useless son of a—
A sudden wave of protectiveness engulfed him as he felt the urgent need to rescue you. Acting on impulse, he swiftly turned around and sprinted back toward the brothel. It wasn't until he reached the establishment again that he realised he lacked a plan. What was his next move after discovering your actual situation?
Think, Jung Wooyoung, think!
Before he could even formulate a plan, one of the courtesans approached him, her demeanour dripping with seduction. She pressed her chest against his side, trailing a seductive finger across his chest. Her mouth watered at the thought of entertaining such a young and dashing man after dealing with disgusting old men for so long, "Hello there, handsome. Would you like to spend a little time with us? Have some fun? Here at the Mansion of Midnight, we provide only the best services," she purred, winking at him. He struggled to push her off without appearing too rude, feeling incredibly uncomfortable with her touchiness.
"I-I... yes, I'd like to spend some time with the newest courtesan here, please," he stuttered, managing to free himself from her grasp.
With a scoff, she crossed her arms over her chest in disbelief, "You mean Miss Han? Why? Just because she's new? She's been here for a week and is still a virgin. I assure you, experienced courtesans like myself would know better how to satisfy you."
As she attempted to promote herself further, an older woman who appeared to be in charge intervened, glaring at her, "Enough, Iseul. What did I say about respecting our client's wishes? It's not you he wants. Accept it and move along," she reprimanded. Turning to Wooyoung, the brothel madam grinned, "So, you'd like to request Miss Han, hm? I understand. She's around your age and is still pure. If I were you, she might be the only one I'd want too. Tell me, how long would you like to spend with her? An hour or two?"
"I want her to myself for the rest of the day."
"Miss Han, you fortunate little thing! Congratulations on securing your very first client. This dashing young man seems utterly smitten by you, to have reserved your company for the entire evening."
You tightly clenched your trembling fists to your chest, suppressing a terrified whimper as you listened to the brothel madam's devious teasing. You had prayed fervently that nobody would request your services, doing everything you could to remain inconspicuous over the past week, hoping they might see you as more suitable for hard labour; you'd much rather be the lowest servant than do any of this.
Yet, here you were, already with your first client, and not just any client—this man had gone as far as to secure your companionship for the entire day. Such occurrences were rare, even for the most sought-after courtesans in this establishment. You couldn't fathom who this person might be, how he had learned of you, and why he'd spend so much to buy your time.
"Wh-who is it? This customer..."
"Wouldn't you like to know? It's none other than the famous private investigator Jung Wooyoung, known for his significant role in aiding General Park's capture of former Minister Jang. I suppose even men with a strong sense of justice are still susceptible to desire," The sly woman drawled, winking at you, "Don't disappoint us, girl. A client of his calibre could become a valuable long-term patron. Treat him well."
In anticipation of this highly significant new client, they went to great lengths to prepare you. After informing you of the news, the brothel madam called upon a team of staff to bathe you and dress you in a seemingly brand-new hanbok. It was almost as revealing as the ones worn daily by Iseul and the other popular courtesans. Usually, newer girls like yourself were given hand-me-down hanboks that were less appealing, given your status. However, this didn't alleviate the pressure you were feeling; if anything, it intensified, knowing how valuable this client must be.
God, why? Why me, of all people?
You should have known that all men were alike. No matter how noble or upright they might seem, they were ultimately driven by temptation. At the end of the day, they all desired the same thing. You could only hope that he would at least go easy on you. Your heart raced in your chest as you sat on the bed in the room assigned to you and him for the night, waiting for him.
To steady your trembling hands, you balled them into fists, feeling your nails dig into the skin of your palm with such force that you were certain they would break soon. Just as you were about to sink deeper into your endless pool of misery, you froze at the sound of footsteps approaching the room. Internally cursing your father once more, you braced yourself for what lay ahead.
"This way, Mr. Jung. She's ready for you."
Hearing those words turned your stomach. Yes, this was your current reality. You were nothing more than a commodity—a comfort woman for hire. An object for men to exploit when they sought release, to use as they pleased, as long as they could pay for it.
As you accepted your fate, you closed your eyes and bowed your head, the wooden door creaking open slowly. There was no escape from this—his reservation for the entire evening could only mean one thing. He hadn't bought your time just for conversation and a meal. No, he was here for the reason most men visited a brothel. This was it; this was how you'd lose your innocence.
"Miss Han...?" The man's uncertain voice echoed through the room.
Lifting your gaze to meet the individual who would be claiming your innocence tonight, your eyes widened in recognition as soon as you laid eyes on him. He was the handsome stranger you had collided with the other day. With a gasp, you uttered, "It's you..."
"So, y-you're the famous private investigator? Wh-what are you doing here?" You asked, then shook your head and cleared your throat, "Wait, I'm sorry. That was a foolish question; everyone knows why men come here." Inside, you couldn't deny the disappointment. His initial impression had been shattered now that you knew he was your first client. He didn't seem like the type to visit such places, but you supposed you couldn't judge a book by its cover.
His eyes widened at your implication, and he quickly shook his head, waving his hands to deny it as he stepped closer to you. Seeing you visibly shrink back, he made sure to keep a respectful distance, "No, you don't understand. I'm not here for that, Miss Han."
Lowering his voice, he took a seat in the nearest chair and continued, "I'm here to help you. My name is Wooyoung, as you already know, and I'm an investigator. I heard you're here against your will because of your father. Is that right?"
He fought to keep his composure, trying not to let his gaze linger too long on your features. He could feel the blush creeping up his cheeks as he struggled not to let his eyes wander further down to the sheer hanbok, which left your bare shoulders exposed thanks to its see-through material. Typically, such hanboks were reserved for married women about to spend the night with their husbands. The realisation that he was alone in a room with his dream girl dressed like that was enough to leave him flustered.
But he knew he needed to focus on the task at hand. Now was not the time to be feeling shy or distracted. He had a more important mission: to get you the hell out of here. So, he pushed aside his feelings and did his best to remain composed for your sake.
Nodding slowly, you furrowed your brows with scepticism, "Help me? Why? You don't even know me. What's in it for you? I have no money, and the only thing I can offer is..." Your voice trailed off as you glanced down at your body. Your distrust was palpable as you considered whether you could trust him. Just because he was the investigator who helped General Park capture the former Minister of Military Affairs didn't mean he had any obligation to you.
Understanding your hesitation, Wooyoung sighed deeply. He sympathised with your reluctance to trust a stranger, especially considering the betrayal you had experienced from someone you should have been able to rely on. He didn't blame you for questioning his motives; it was a reasonable response given the circumstances.
He looked into your eyes with a sincerity that struck you deeply, "Listen, not all men are like that," he said earnestly, "I know it may seem difficult for you to believe that someone would be willing to help you without expecting anything in return, but I'm here to prove to you that we exist. I'll admit your beauty captivated me initially, and I genuinely intended to court you. But after learning the truth about your situation, what kind of person would I be to not help? I won't rest until I get you out of here."
His words struck a chord within you, and there was a sincerity in his tone that you had rarely heard, not even from the people you called your parents. Despite your initial scepticism, you decided to believe him, if only for this moment. After all, if someone truly wanted to rescue you from this dreadful place, who were you to object?
You suppressed the shyness that arose upon his admission of his intentions to court you. Memories of your first encounter with him flooded back, making you ponder how different things might have been if you were an ordinary girl. Nevertheless, you were grateful he hadn't given up on you despite discovering your identity. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to have a friend in him.
Moving to sit across from him at the dining table in the centre of the room, you nervously fidgeted with your fingers, "Alright, Mr. Jung. I'll choose to trust you. I appreciate your efforts to help me, but... how do you plan to do that? The Mansion of Midnight isn't a small establishment. They've been around for as long as I can remember, and none of the girls working here have been able to just walk out as they please. As far as I know, I'm part of their property now."
"Not if I can help it. The larger the establishment, the more skeletons they have in their closet. Especially in a place like a brothel, I doubt their operations are entirely above board," he explained, "I'll keep returning for the next week, and buy up all your time. That'll keep other patrons away. Meanwhile, I'll use that time to snoop around. Trust me, we're getting you out of here, no matter what." He reassured you with a warm smile gorgeous enough to melt your heart, but you didn't let it show.
I most certainly hope so, Mr. Jung.
You couldn't help but admire his unwavering determination, even though a part of you hesitated to allow yourself to feel hopeful. You dared not raise your hopes too high, afraid of the crushing disappointment that would follow if his plan were to fail. Yet, at this moment, you were grateful to have crossed paths with him, whether or not he'd be able to get you out of here.
« Preview of Part 2 »
"Sir, Investigator Jung is here to see you," Jongho announced at the entrance of his master's study, an anxious Wooyoung standing beside him. The general raised his brows in surprise, "At this hour? Let him in."
Without hesitation, the investigator rushed into the room, "My lord, I apologise for showing up unannounced so late at night! I know you said not to bother you and Lady Park for the time being, but there's something urgent that I need help with—"
"Woah, breathe, Wooyoung. Calm down and take a seat. Jongho, please bring us some tea," With a bow, the assistant moved to leave before halting when Seonghwa called out to him again, "Wait! On your way back, let the mistress know not to wait up for me. I have a feeling this won't be a short meeting."
"Of course, sir," the assistant replied.
Feeling guilty for getting in the way of what should have been the couple's honeymoon time, the younger man sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, "Gosh, I really am sorry to intrude on your alone time with your wife."
The general smiled reassuringly, shaking his head, "Please don't worry about it. It must be important for you to rush here so late. Besides, you've helped me plenty before. It's only right for me to return the favour now. Tell me, what do you need help with?"
"I know I previously declined the bonus incentives you offered, but... would it be alright for me to accept them now?"
Wooyoung hadn't fully considered the financial implications when he confidently promised to return to the Mansion of Midnight every day for the next week. It dawned on him how costly even one night there had been. He couldn't possibly ask his parents for money to be spent on a brothel. Despite it being for a noble cause, they'd have a heart attack. So, he had no choice but to seek financial assistance from Seonghwa.
I was initially going to make this into a oneshot, but that would take me too long to post and I didn't want to make y'all wait any longer than you already have! So, voila! I'm breaking this into 2 parts. The next part will be the second and final part of this spinoff.
As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3
Tag list (1/4): @itstheghostofmypast @huachengsbestie01 @minghaoslatina @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr @cheolliehugs @ho3-for-yunho @the-kpop-simp @writingwieny @stayatinykatsy @skzline @green-agent @stayinhellevator @vampzity @tinyteezer @evidive @vantediary @superbbananananana @kimyeolchan @chocolate-scoups @decadentstrangernacho @vic0921 @foxinnie8 @marievllr-abg @sunnyhokyu @seungmin-in-thebuilding @heyitsmetonid @sansaurora9904 @darkestacademiamindsx12-blog @pay13 @kpop17 @professormingisglasses @newworldwritings @chicken-fifi @thunderous-wolf @shythinggiver @madnpan @yandere-stories @anxiousskylar @frobin4ever @starssongs98 @kamabokogonpachro @chngbnwf @dollce-exe @jan-l @lovelyred2 @haven-cove @watermelon2319 @dreamingofyeo @akimkim @scuzmunkie @satsuri3su @mismatchfluffysocks @borntoshineateez @st4rhwa @ddaeing @tropicalsstuff @bts-army380 @skteezcursed @beauty143
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#edenesth#the way to his heart#take me away#twthh spinoff#ateez#ateez fanfic#ateez fanfiction#jung wooyoung#ateez wooyoung#historical au#joseon era#wooyoung x reader#wooyoung x you#ateez fic
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i would LOVE something like enemies to loversss
between you’re preferred gwendoline character x reader
maybe hate sex
𝐈'𝐝 𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐑𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐌𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟..
𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 - [𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝟏𝟖+]
✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧
𝐋𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐚 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫 𝐟!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: ~3.1k
𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: NSFW, shifted cock, degradation kink, praise kink, desk sex, mommy kink, choking, fingering, dom!Larissa, sub!Reader, slight breeding kink
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: see above
𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
AO3 link in title
✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧
✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧
You sat towards the side of the room closest to the window, the hot sun rays shining through the glass and casting a comfortable warmth over you. Your pen moved between your fingers, sometimes stopping to take notes or to rest on your lips while you thought about what was said, sometimes never leaving the paper as you covered the blank pages with ink as your art filled each one.
The latter seemed to be the only thing helping you get through this meeting..
Her voice, strong, powerful, demanding, rang through the room as the all familiar pointer darted from board to board when she connected them with each of her main points. Everyone else was paying attention, or at least seemed to be, but you had long gone ditched the effort after she threw you another question.
When you took a moment to look around at your coworkers, you saw them all taking down the notes that were written down time and time again or looking up to the front as the tall blonde spoke about issues or upcoming events. They were all so loyal, so easily manipulated, that it pained you to acknowledge the sight, so you turned the next page and replayed your actions from the start.
Larissa seemed to notice this, to see how you had gone through pages of no sustenance, of no quality as you filled them with art instead of everything important that she had been saying for the past hour - it made a growl threaten to come out as it got stuck in her throat.
"Professor L/N…" Her voice rang out with your name for the second time that day as the meeting was near its end, "Care to explain what I had just spoken of?"
At the sound of your name, your head turned up slowly, the disinterest in your eyes apparent as you met hers. You were waiting for when she would call upon you again, and a sly smirk graced your features at the opportunity to call her suspicions of your inattention wrong.
"Outreach Day," you said as you looked around for the attention of your coworkers, before turning back and meeting a growing fire behind sapphire eyes, "is a day for normies and outcasts to work together and show that there is not that big of a difference between the two. We are all people in one way or another, and the day is one to improve relations between the two parties."
She took her bottom lip between her teeth, and the sight made your breathing still. As one of her eyebrows quirked upwards, you reveled in the knowledge that she was satisfied with your answer, and she was wrong about your actions. Before she was about to speak again, you decided to push it a step forward, not knowing exactly how much she thought you had taken in.
"It's next week - Friday, to be exact. We're gathering after 2nd period, and lunch is to be spent in Jericho. We hand each student their designated location then head out to the front of the school to load the busses. If all goes well, we'll all be back before 7pm."
You could feel everyone's eyes darting between the two of you. These moments weren't rare, especially in meetings, but they never failed to build an unbreathable, restricting tension within whatever room you two currently occupied.
"Thank you, Miss L/N.." She spoke through a smile as she turned back to the board beside her. There was a hint of something else there, something you couldn't quite put your finger on, but it made your heart race; the lightness found within her voice something new and awfully contrasting what you normally received. "Nice to see someone being so attentive to my words.. That is everything for today. If you all have any questions, don't be afraid to speak to me or send me an email."
The room filled with small chatter and light shuffles as every professor began collecting their things. It always made you chuckle, since it was so similar to the way your students left for class: hurried, more relaxed, filled with a bit more excitement.
When you stood from your chair, you pulled your bag onto your shoulder as you took another look outside. Though, it was as if your peace was always interrupted by her, as you heard her call for your attention.
"L/n, I'd like to see you in my office." You were just about to leave, but your name with her voice attached to it made you stop all movement and turn around. You watched as she collected her own items, the lack of honorific making you frown.
"Okay.. I'm just going to drop my things in my classroom and-"
She walked past you as she spoke, only looking at your for a sliver of a second before she stopped by the door. A crease between her brows formed, and her back straightened when you met her side so she could tower over you.
"Immediately." There was no waver in her tone, no room for you to respond as the space next to you had quickly become empty. You never understood how it became like this.
But, alas, you listened anyway.
~~
You caught the door just after she slipped in, making note of how little she currently thought of your presence, before making way into her office. The room never failed to interest you - the mirrors on the ceiling, the beautiful fireplace, the golden light from the chandeliers, the grand window all being built to utter perfection.
You found it a shame to never be in here with something good laying ahead.
You placed your bag by the door, before turning to face the blonde. She was half way into the room, ready to make home at her familiar desk and spend the next several hours clearing her inbox, as you stayed near the grand entryway. You watched as she placed her laptop onto the middle of her desk, before turning around to face you.
She noticed the distance you kept and considered finding joy in making you come closer, but the way you fiddled with your thumbs, the way your gaze shot around the room told her that you didn't quite know why you were in here this time. Though she found it adorable, she used the thought to make your situation worse.
She rested an arm against the back of one of the chairs in front of her desk, before her voice echoed into the space. "Do you have a clue as to why I've pulled you in here?"
Her gaze burned over your body, moving from your face down to your feet and back up again. The way she took in your form so intensely made you squirm ever so slightly, but it was something that didn't go unnoticed by the blonde. A smile slowly rose to her face as silence continued to fill the room, finding joy in the difference between you in the meeting and you now alone with her. She loved playing this little game with you, loved toying with you in ways she thought she would never bring to light.
"No, Ms.Weems.." Your eyes met hers as you spoke, and you were unprepared for the challenging look she thew your way. You allowed yourself to take her in with all her power, the way her dress draped over her curves perfectly, the way her hair didn't have an imperfect curl, how her hands moved when she spoke, how her tongue came out to wet her lips after each sentence-
She looked at you expectantly, one of her hands coming to rest on her hip as her head tilted to the side ever so slightly. In your moment of rare admiration, you had missed everything she had said.
"I apologize, but I've seemed to miss what you had said. Could you-"
“I’d hate to repeat myself, Professor L/N.” She glared at you, her professional mask near slipping as she stood her ground.
You hated feeling so small, hated the way she constantly made you feel, maybe even hated her.. She always expected from you, always challenged you in ways that made your blood boil, her tone and constant annoyance with you making a lightness settle in your arms, clouding you over with anger.
You finally snapped.
“You know what? I am so sick and tired of the way you always belittle me. It’s exhausting even attempting to please you, and it seems like whatever I do is never perfect enough, never good enough for you. I have absolutely no idea what I did to you to get this kind of treatment, but I'm so tired of getting punished for a simple human mistake, for having my actions read into, for having every little thing I do be picked at. I hate to say it, Larissa Weems, but you're going to have to repeat yourself this time.“
By the end of your spew of anger, you had successfully pushed and pinned her against her desk, one hand poking onto her collarbone while the other rested on the side of her on the desk as her backside dug into the dark wood.
You were so close, closer than you had ever been to the woman. You could smell her perfume as it overtook your lungs, feel the heat of her own breath against your skin, see her chest heave and brush against yours as your fit of anger seemed to finally get your thoughts across - the fact had made nerves settle back into you, stealing any confidence the anger had given you.
In your moment of faltering, words slipped from your mouth, barely above a whisper but still equal in their anger. “Why do you hate me so much?”
As you looked into her eyes, there was a darkness that filled them that was different than the one you had met several times before. Maybe it was the way you finally snapped, maybe it was the way you dominated her for even just a moment, but something within her had changed, slipped, forcing itself to the forefront before she could act otherwise.
She flipped your positions, one of her hands grabbing onto your hip as the other held your jaw in a firm grip. The sharp edge of the desk settled against your lower back as you slowly got pressed against it more and more. In the quick movements, you reached out your hands for stability only for one of them to grip the fabric of her dress and successfully pull her closer, while the other shot behind you to balance you against the desk.
She tilted your chin up, forcing your gaze to hers as she took in your features. A deep blush settled on your cheeks at the close proximity, and you found yourself getting drunk on her perfume. There was a roughness found within her dominance as her eyes landed on your lips and stayed here as she spoke, making warmth spread throughout your body.
“It’s quite the opposite actually..” Her lips ghosted over yours as she spoke, causing a whimper to leave your throat. The sound only urged her actions forward, one of her legs pushing under your skirt and between your thighs as she completely cornered you. "Do you want this, Y/n?"
The way your name left her mouth shot warmth to your core - there was a softness to it that made your heart swell, but it was overshadowed by the undeniable lust that filled her entire being.
"Please.."
You watched as her smirk turned sinister, as her eyes darkened when she placed her hand around your throat and loved how perfectly it look there, as the last of her resolve crumbled away when she squeezed slightly causing your hand to latch around her wrist and your eyes to flutter shut as a broken moan left you.
Her lips crashed into yours, and it seemed like a crime to wish for air. The kiss was messy, it was desperate, but it was oh so perfect. Her tongue swiped along your bottom lip, and you didn't think twice about allowing her entrance. The way her tongue felt against yours had you fighting to hold back moans, but nothing could slip past Larissa.
She pulled away when she noticed, a trail of saliva between your lips, as she enjoyed the way you chased her. Her voice was dark, low as it rumbled in her chest, delicious as she tilted your head and spoke next to your ear. "Don't you dare hide those beautiful sounds from me. I want to hear them falling from your lips as I fuck you like the wonderful slut you are. Will you do that for mommy?"
The way her voice ghosted over your ear, delivering delicious promises to you made you shudder and swallow hard. The pure need coursing through your body made you roll your hips against her thigh. The contact made you arch into her and your words come out in a moan. "Yes, mommy.."
She made quick work of getting rid of your shirt, marking any skin her lips came into contact with immediately after. Her tongue pressed against the side of your neck as her fingers pushed under your bra and swiped over your nipples. You couldn't help but moan out in pleasure, the desire for her building by the second.
"See? That wasn't so hard.." As she spoke, her hands quickly moved to unclasp your bra, letting it fall to the floor as her mouth watered at the sight of more of you. You moaned as she took one of your nipples into her mouth, the sensation shooting goosebumps across your body, causing you to grab onto her shoulders for stability.
It seemed as though she couldn't get enough of you, her actions calculated but filled with desperation. With your focus on her tongue, you had failed to notice one of her hands slipping under your skirt, until it traced against your slit. The action made your hips buck into her hand, the growing need for her apparent in your gaze.
She slipped her hand underneath the fabric and moaned into your ear at the arousal that had slipped out of you. "Gods, you're so wet for me, so desperate for mommy to fill you up, hmm?"
Just as you were about to respond, two fingers were pushed into your core, the stretch delicious and making a moan get caught in your throat. You moved your hips, loving the way her fingers curled in just the right spot, as your moans and whimpers grew louder.
"That's it, baby.. Ride my fingers like a good little whore.." Her words only surged you forward, the sweet feeling of release consuming you when her thumb started circling your clit. With a curl of her fingers and another touch against your sensitive bud, you came on her fingers as your body shuddered.
She pulled her fingers from you, admiring the slick that fell down against your inner thighs before holding them up to you. You took them in your mouth without question, swirling your tongue against her digits as you moaned at the taste of yourself. The sight seemed to be intoxicating for the blonde as her eyes never left the sight.
She pulled her fingers from your mouth and immediately took the rest of your clothes off. Her dress followed suit, the pale expanse of her body making itself known to you, and you couldn't help but stare. Once she noticed this, she lowered herself down, kissing you gently as she hands traced over your skin. The softness in the kiss was a welcomed one, though heavily contrasting the actions that were about to come.
She flipped you over, the cool wood of the desk only adding fuel to the flame building within you. You felt a new bulge form against you, only to let out a whimper after looking back and seeing her shifted cock against your core.
"You look so good underneath me.. gonna look so good taking mommy's cock.." She ran her cock along your slit, coating it in your juices as it rubbed against your clit each time.
You gripped the edge of the desk, holding your breath until she finally pushed into you. She groaned as she pushed into you, your walls immediately clenching around her as her hips met your backside. She pressed a kiss to your back before she spoke. "You take me so well, sweet thing…"
"Please, please, please, mommy.. I need-" You were cut off by your own moans, the feeling of her thrusting into you making your brain short circuit. Her pace was slow for only a moment, the sounds that left your mouth spurring her forwards to pound into you.
"You feel so good around mommy's cock, taking me so well.." You pushed your hips back with every thrust, meeting her own and seeing stars. She was so deep inside you, hitting your sweet spot with every pound, filling you up so well that your peak was building back up again. "Look at you so desperate for me.. sounding so beautiful when you take me.."
"I-I'm- fuck.. Please, let me cum.. Fill me up, just please don't stop-" Her nails dug into your hips to leave crescent marks there, her moans growing louder as she felt her own release building, and you were so good for her..
"How could I deny you when you ask so nicely… Cum around mommy's cock like a good little slut.." The room filled with your moans and the sound of your skin slapping together. With a few more rough thrusts of her hips, you came with her name on your lips, and she followed right after as your walls clenched around her cock.
She kept thrusting as she rode out her high, filling you with her hot seed. Your bodies shuddered, her thrusts coming to a stop and pulling out of you a few moments later. She placed kisses around your shoulders at your whimpers, the emptiness that made itself known making you look forward to the next time this would happen, in your tired state.
She took you in her arms, carrying you through her office and to her attached private quarters, before placing you gently on her bed. She disappeared for a few moments, allowing you to catch your breath and ground yourself, before coming back with a wet rag and a glass of water.
She guided the cup to your lips, helping and watching you drink some before putting the empty glass on her bedside table. The gentleness in her actions made your heart flutter, taking note of the contrast of her movements compared to the ones just moments before. After she cleaned you up, she came beside you and wrapped you in her embrace, and you immediately nuzzled your head in the crook her of neck.
The energy in the room from when this had all started had been completely removed, a newfound calm replacing all of it. Her hands traced along your skin as she placed kisses against your hairline.
"So.. it's the opposite, huh?" Your tone was playful and paired with the growing exhaustion the started to take over you. She laughed loudly, her sound rumbling in her chest and moving you as each one escaped. It was beautiful, and it made you wonder what else was hidden along with the woman you now saw.
She pulled you closer, wrapping the covers around you both before speaking again. "We'll talk about it over dinner later, hmm? Get some rest. After all… I'd hate to repeat myself.."
~~
✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧
𝐚/𝐧: HEHE HAHAH
thiiiiisssss was so nice to write after not being able to do anything.
I traveled a lot this weekend, only for more to follow within the next week, so I wasn't able to post anything but ! i'm slowly working on my requests - I'm getting there
i've literally been thinking about this since I got it because I didn't know what route I was going to take but I really like how it ended up
Let me know if you'd like to be added to my taglist :) I hope you liked this one, anon. Thank you for the request
x,
~ 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐯𝐲𝐧
✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧
𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: (tagged anyone who asked/wanted to be on the "all works" taglist)
@autumn-leaves-chasing-breeze @weemssapphic @readingtheentrails @finnja555 @barbarasstar @s-c-rambledeggs @vendocrap8008 @gwendolinechristieiscute @lilfartbox1 @agathaandgwenslesbian @lvinhs @elvira-dear @kimiinou
✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧
#crowravencrow#larissa weems#larissa weems x reader#principal larissa weems#larissa x reader#principal weems#principal weems x reader#principal larissa weems x reader#larissa weems x y/n#larissa weems smut#principal larissa weems smut#wlw fanfiction#wlw smut#wlw fanfic#fanfiction#fanfic#one shot#anon answered#anonymous#anon#anonymous asks#anon ask#answered#larissa x you#larissa x y/n
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"your a woman, you supposed to take Rhaenyra's side!!"
My dude, why would you discriminate for her just because she's a woman? You guys just go blind because she's a woman. You're the one who give her a pass because she's a woman.
I never understood these feminist fight.
Feminism is about equality, but nothing was equal between Aegon and Rhaenyra.
Their childhood and adolescence were different like the earth and the sky. Their age, their marriage, the way others treated them and in short everything about them was unequal.
When reading F&B I didn't care much for Aegon when he was introduced as this lazy, unambitious sot. But as the war progressed I couldn't help but notice his resilience, courage and intelligence and root for him.
Look at what Aegon was like in the earlier parts of F&B. He drank a lot, groped and pinched serving girls, potentially fathered multiple unacknowledged bastards, and was an all-round dick. He wasn’t as fierce as Aemond, as courteous as Daeron, or as gentle as Helaena. He started a fight at the family feast when Jace offered a dance to Helaena (the same wife whom he was serially unfaithful to). While the Greens launched their coup, he was at some degenerate “revels”. When Aemond murdered 13-year-old Luke, he threw a celebration and called it “a good start.”
But after the Dance’s actual battles began, Aegon really lived up to his title! He had Criston Cole capture Duskendale and Rook’s Rest, and then fought on Sunfyre to take out Rhaenys when she fell for the bait. Despite his crippling injuries, he survived. Even after his sons were butchered and King’s Landing fell, he fought on. Aegon and Sunfyre recovered on Dragonstone, with Sunfyre killing Grey Ghost along the way. Then Aegon and his forces took the castle under the Blacks’ noses. He and Sunfyre won yet another dragon battle against Baela. And again Aegon clings onto life in the face of crippling injuries. Then he traps and kills Rhaenyra while uttering a fantastic line "Rhaenyra: My lords will find me. Aegon: If they search the seven hells mayhaps." He returns to KL as King. The various self-proclaimed monarchs and the Shepherd are promptly defeated. It is a hell of a comeback considering Aegon’s state when he left the capital.
It's remarkable how quickly he grows into his role as king and how devoted to his cause he becomes by the end. He is determined to reclaim his father's throne, to restore order to kings landing by putting down the rebellion and punishing the insurgents, make peace with his enemies, he already plans to marry a Baratheon girl not for love but for duty to get an heir again. From the irresponsible, lazy drunk he supposedly was you would expect him to be vain, selfish and hedonistic, someone who only pursues his own pleasure and expects others to do the hard work, but no the hardships and responsibilities shaped him into someone who takes duty seriously. Even though prone to make rash, and imprudent decisions he also had the favourable quality to listen to the counsel of wiser and more experienced people around him and nearly always follows their advice. I think towards the end of the Dance it's painfully clear he is a better ruler than Rhaenyra.
Aegon had a 13 to 4 dragon disadvantage and a 53 to 28 House disadvantage, does this seems equal to you? Yet he still won (now if you wanna tell me "But Rhaenyra's lineage continued" pls shut your mouth because we are talking about the winner of war and the win you guys are so proud of is a fucking joke)
It’s hard for me to call him a bad King because he was given the worst situation of any King in Westerosi history with a civil war where you’re at a disadvantage starting out. The Greens should’ve been steamrolled but thanks to Aegon resiliency and Rhaenyra’s incompetent they weren’t.
People show you who they really are when they are tested and things are not going their way. Rhaenyra was tested and failed to rise to the occasion every single time. I find Rhaenyra utterly, utterly pathetic, without any redeeming quality as a ruler, as a person, as a woman.
By marrying and having kids with Daemon, she pretty much guaranteed a three-way civil war between Daemon's sons, her bastards, and her brothers the minute she dropped dead. So it doesn't matter if it was Aegon who sat on iron throne, this war was supposed to happen.
We saw Rhaenyra rule. She was a disaster. A ruler who puts their selfish desires above duty will always be a disaster. That's what Rhaenyra was: a selfish entitled person who didn't give a fuck about anyone other than herself. It's a miracle she had such decent kids.
Rhaenyra had a better council. The Sea Snake was wealthy and powerful, Rhaenys was beloved by many and respected as well. Meanwhile, Aegon's advisors were mostly Hightower cronies and quite a few were motivated mostly to spite Rhaenyra. Yet she fucked that up.
Rhaenyra literally was kicked out of the throne because people were tired of her reign, no one had this opposition besides Maegor.
People also like to excuse her cruelty and stupidity during her brief reign as a queen because she lost her children during the war. But Rhaenyra was a selfish entitled person long before she became queen or lost any of her kids. She wanted Aemond, who was just a boy, punished for calling her boys bastards, which they were. She murdered and advocated torture to keep up the lie. Let's not forget how she murdered Vaemond Velaryon for speaking up against Lucerys inheriting Driftmark ahead of trueborn Velaryons.
Or how she ignored the entire reason she was made heir by marrying Daemon anyway when she was made heir to keep that psychopath from the throne. All these things happened before Rhaenyra lost any of her children or got usurped. The losses didn't change her. They just worsened what she already was.
She ordered daily executions, established "knights inquisitors" to hunt down innocent children, would not offer peace terms, imposed ridiculous taxes while throwing a lavish birthday party for her son, and then tried to have her allies murdered.
She is insanely selfish - am I the only one who thinks she's a very very scary narcissist? Never in the whole course of her life has she had a single concern about others - it's always about herself, her children who she sees as an extension of herself. Even the great narcissist Cersei has shown some small sympathy towards Sansa when she was engaged to Joffrey. She never even bothered to visit or care for her father, instead she was chilling with her creepy uncle on Dragonstone.
She uses and manipulates, and tramples over others and treats her allies like absolute garbage. Corlys Velaryon was first grandcucked, then got his son murdered either by her or her husband, then got his granddaughters deprived of their birthrights and betrothed to bastards. Yet for some reason still supports his great abuser. What did he get in return? Being thrown in the black cells for trying to save the life of his innocent and loyal bastard son.
She inspires zero loyalty and devotion from either her people or the nobles. She insults important nobles who have never offended her, doesn't make alliances, calls the small folk scum and taxes them to death. No wonder they call her Queen Maegor and threw her out of the city. She doesn't make one single selfless and smart political decision. The Vale and the North might have supported her on paper - they hardly did anything until the war was almost over - she had no real allies except some semi-god Rivermen who were scared into supporting her by Daemon.
She is an utter coward and liar. Her youngest son and teenage stepdaughter both took to dragon back before her, as she hid like a coward and sent others to die for her. She took it for granted that others should die for her ungrateful and pathetic cause. She gaslights others into lying about her bastards' parentage and maims/executes everyone who disagrees.
She is a cruel, stupid and atrocious ruler with zero redeeming quality. She filled her council with idiots like Bartimus Celtigar and some Kingsguard/Commander who don't know a single thing about ruling. She listened to the counsel of that child-murderer Mysaria. She never made allies or made sensible political decisions. Her eldest son Jace has ten times her diplomatic skills.
She was extremely cruel during her short reign as Queen. She beheaded people daily, filled the city with terror, imposed crazy taxes including taxes on bastards, imprisoned any dissenters, made people pay to watch executions, threw a feast while people starved and resulted in all the dragons being killed.
She never defends the rights of other women, she thinks she is the special exception to the patriarchy. Just ask Lord Rosby's daughter. She usurps her stepdaughter's birthright in favor of her bastards.
She fully deserved her fate, because she spent her whole life avoiding duty and responsibility, using, abusing and manipulating those closest to her, ruled like a tyrant and led to the extinction of her dynasty.
Tell me one positive quality of this utter failure of a Targaryen has and I will refute you.
Aegon suffered much more than Rhaenyra but he didn't give up, all these events only made him grow and become stronger unlike Rhaenyra who fucked everything up and got worse day by day. He lived in real world and knows if he don't fight for himself no one gonna do that, but Rhaenyra was still on her I'm my daddy's princess so I do whatever the fuck that I want era. like a leech, Rhaenyra relied on others to survive, she was delulu. Oh did I mention she sold her crown and ran away like a coward? Did I mention Aegon had to clean the mess that she made?
And did you guys noticed almost all the rulers after Aegon II are mad, stupid, useless, coward? Just like Rhaenyra.
Now you can disagrees with me, that's ok but don't even try to fight with me about her or try to change my mind because it's not gonna work. Idk about you but I don't want my feminist icon to be someone like Rhaenyra.
Oh and if you wanna use "but Aegon was a rapist" card go read the fucking book or this post.
#house of the dragon#house targaryen#house of dragons#aemond targaryen#aegon ii targaryen#hotd#anti team black#anti rhaenyra stans#anti rhaenyra targaryen#pro team green#team green#aemond one eye#aegon targaryen x reader#aegon ii#aegon targaryen#asoiaf#a song of ice and fire#alicent hightower#dance of the dragons#aegon x reader#aegon ii targaryen x reader#king aegon#hotd aegon#hotd aemond
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No longer yours to keep
summary: what happens when you and Xaden bond with mated dragons but you're already dating Garrick?
warning: pretty suggestive, some iron flame spoilers.
Kind of part II
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
For as long as you could remember it had been you three against the world. Your families had been extremely close so it was inevitable for your three to end up being best friends. And it was like that until you all started to grow up. And once the teenage years kicked in so did the desire to explore and learn new things.
You mingled in this relationship with no boundaries, no labels for a bit. Until Xaden had to uphold his duties. Had to agree to be engaged to a girl just for the sake of power. That of course meant that you and Garrick had been slightly pushed to the side. Xaden was barely free to spend time with you, barely there for your usual nights out. Meaning that you and Garrick fell into this easy rhythm. This bonding over losing a friend you two loved dearly. And without any big gestures. Without any grand signs had fallen in love.
Garrick had always been made of sharp edges, similar to Xaden. Just Xaden used that as a form of self-defense when he needed to be out in the public and Garric... He had always been on the rougher side. Had always been harder to read. To predict. But he was an amazing lover. There wasn't a moment where you felt unseen or unheard. Yes, he had his moments but once he stewed over them, he would always come to apologize. To make it right. And he was so protective. Boy, was he protective. It was both a charming thing because it empowered you even more but... it was frightening too because Garrick's heart was in your hands, he had let you in deeper than anyone else. And you had planned to keep it forever. Had planned but...
But then threshing came. You three were at the top of your squad. Ready to grasp the best spots in the section. Garrick and Xaden were already waiting when you emerged. They had remained close friends throughout the years. Lost had changed and in all honesty it was you who bitched to Xaden the most. "We can do the next shipment after we bond with dragons", Xaden said quietly. There was a revelation brewing. And surprise, surprise Xaden was at the top of it. "I'll get the boys to take the boxes tonight", Garrick said, as his arm sneaked around your waist, "Hey", he muttered pressing his lips to your temple. "Everything's okay?", you asked, earning a nod from them both. "Excited to bond?", you looked across the field as the wind picked up.
"I have my eyes set on a dragon I want", Xaden said firmly. "Of course you do", you rolled your eyes, suddenly feeling the urge to cling to Garrick as if this might as well be the last time you two were gonna see one another. "You're okay?", Garrick wrapped an arm over your shoulders, you hesitated for a moment but... they were your childhood friends after all.
"I just have this weird feeling", you breathed out, "Like something is about to change". Xaden snicked from beside you and Garrick threw him a glare. "We will be bonding with dragons today, princess", Xaden mused. "Might be. Don't be too full of yourself", you bit back, Garrick instantly brought you closer to him, hands on your hips, "Don't bite his throat out, baby". Xaden pushed away from the wall, "I'll see you two there".
You huffed out a breath. You didn't want to be a bitch but that man was grinding your gears at times. He was also putting himself in so much danger and for what? A fucking title? "Tell me about what's worrying you", Garrick cupped your face. Your eyes met his. God, you loved this man. "I just have a bad feeling", you muttered, "I don't think that anyone is dying today but... I think that things are going to be different. Really different". Garrick tilted his head to the side as he watched you. "All I care about is that you come back to me", he muttered, "with or without a dragon, I just want you back by my side". His words clenched at your heart because somehow deep down you had an inkling that that was exactly what wasn't gonna happen.
You had crossed paths with burnt flesh multiple times. Guess this year's threshing theme was roasted cadets for dinner. You were so tired. Sure, this had to end soon and you would have to admit your defeat. And just... A puff of hot air hit your back making you still. You could feel its presence behind you. You took a deep breath in before turning around. And here it stood. The biggest black dragon you had ever seen. "Holly fuck", you breathed beneath your breath.
Your head was buzzing. Every fiber of your skin was on fire. You could believe that you had bonded with a dragon. A black one at that. Black dragons rarely bonded. Lower your ego he snarled in your mind. You slide down his leg ready to give your dragon's name so you can be officially linked when an overwhelming sense of emotions hits your chest. You faltered slightly. Gripping the edge of the table a huge scroll will names was placed on it.
You hand fell on your chest as the edges of your vision blurred. You let out a pained breath as your eyes snapped up and here he stood. On the other side of the field. A blue dragon by his side. Eyes burning holes into you. Hands in fists. What the fuck... you felt an arm wrapping around your waist. Oddly enough wanting to pull away because it just didn't feel right only to find Garrick inches from you, cupping your face. And then everything went black.
Your eyes snapped open with a jolt. The moon was casting faint light over the room. Garrick was passed out beside you. His hand wrapped around your middle. You brushed your fingers through his messy hair when a wave of need rushed through you. Need that wasn't however in any way related to the man that was next to you. Come to me. The voice rang in your head making you jolt. And even if you didn't want to. And even if you tried to fight it. Tried to fall back asleep. Tried cuddling into your boyfriend. Not even fifteen minutes later you were padding through the quiet corridors.
You didn't even have a clue as to where you were going and yet here you were, standing right next to the person that had taken over your mind. "Why the fuck do I feel you in every fiber of my body, Riorson", you said through gritted teeth. Your body grew warm just from the sight of him. "Our dragons are mated", he said bluntly, puffing out a cloud of mirth-root. You instantly crossed the distance between you too, snatching the blunt and taking a hit yourself. The overwhelming feeling eased slightly, but your body still yarned for him.
"We need to sort this out, get this fixed", you muttered, brushing your fingers through your hair in frustration. "How do you plan on doing that? They have been mates for centuries. Fuck, we hadn't even been born back then", Xaden huffed out. "I'm with Garrick, I won't leave him, I...", you muttered in panic, but Xaden's hand that sneaked up your throat made your voice die down.
"They are fucking", Xaden said through gritted teeth, eyes hazy as he looked at you. You could feel it too. Gods, even the smell of him. "We can't... I can't do this to him", you pushed back, trying to keep distance between you two. "Do you think it's not eating me alive?", Xaden growled, cursing under his breath, "I watched Garrick falling head over heels for you. You're it for him, and now...", Xaden turned around, bracing a hand on the wall as he breathed. Please hold your pleasure to yourself you snarled at your dragon. But it's like your words didn't even reach him.
You took in a shaky breath, right as your eyes met Xaden, and within the blink of an eye you were pressed against the stone wall, legs wrapped around Xaden's hips. His teeth buried in your neck as you dug your nails into the back of his neck. It felt as if your body was on fire. As if only with him near you could finally breathe. "We can go back to having an open relationship", Xaden breathed against your ear. You shook your head, "Garrick will never share, we're in too deep", you muttered. Xaden let out a growl, "If he'll want to keep you, he will share, baby". His hands moved up your shirt, Garrick's shirt, and that was a reminder enough for you to push against Xaden's chest. You wiggled till he finally lost his grip on you. "If you'll challenge him for a claim of me, I swear to everything I believe in, I will suffocate you in your sleep", you pointed a warning finger at him. Xaden only chuckled, "You'll be crawling to me", he breathed out. Dark eyes watching you. "Fuck you, Riorson", you huffed, "You'll do that to baby", he mussed right as you turned around. Practically running back to your room. Heart beating in your chest so loudly that for a while it was all you could breathe.
#garrick tavis#garrick tavis x reader#garrick tavis x you#garrick tavis imagine#garrick tavis fourth wing#garrick tavis iron flame#garrick tavis x oc#xaden riorson#xaden riorson x reader#xaden riorson x you#xaden riorson imagine#xaden riorson four wing#xaden riorson iron flame#fourth wing x reader#fourth wing imagine#fourth wing x you#iron flame x reader#iron flame
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◇ Haven’t I given enough?
keigo takami | hawks x female reader
genre: nsfw smut, angst
Keigo struggles to find a way to cope from being forced to be a trained soldier by the hero commission. Luckily you have a few screws lose and are more than willing to be that beacon of hope, no matter the cost. | 18+ MDNI
word count: 4.3k
warnings: he's mean (◞‸◟) but hot to me, toxic relationship,? VERY rough sex, smut, dub/con, keigo has issues- so does reader and they are obsessed with eachother -oop degradation (not for the lighthearted), dumbification, overstim
this is my first post on here and i haven't written in a long time so bare with me :) i think it came out nice tho <3
Keigo has always had the commission on his back. Being raised inside of a facility that is cut throat and grabs you by the hair and force feeds you, not because they have to- but because they can. To express their own dominance like a cat baring their claws or a bird flexing their wings to show off how big they are. Poor little Keigo didn’t have a choice in the matter either, being so young he already knew if you disobey authority you have your work cut out for you.
He was always a people pleaser from day one. Daily motivation sourcing from the look of admiration by the adults, impressed by his quirk and drive for success. But the look was not admiration, but instead it was insulting. They never seemed to be pleased by his hard work and it pricked Keigo in his head constantly.
“You’re not working hard enough,” and “you can do better” they said.
Day after day his big doe eyes became heavier and heavier until they were keen enough to cut. There wasn’t a way to say “no” that didn’t end up in some type of penalty, ultimately equating the word “no” as something negative and taking a life as something positive, because who was there to tell him what was going on was bad and not right?
A baby bird only eats whatever its mother feeds them, whether thats food or garbage.
After Keigo’s first kill as a pre-teen, he hunched over and threw up at the mental anguish of being groomed to be a killing machine. It was one person after the other being a perfect sacrifice to perfect his skill, not at will but from demand. Keigo began to revel in the superiority of finally having the upper hand against someone, finally feeling powerful and knowing his own skill set by developing his quirk to be the best in the game.
Overtime he liked seeing the redness of blood camouflage with the tips of his red feathers and the string of apologies flowing from someone’s mouth, begging to spare their life. He got off on the picture of him standing big and tall on top of their weakened body.
But it was only fulfilling in the beginning.
He has bright vermilion wings with sharp eyes to match and it was not something you could easily look away from. It is a type of stare he developed over time that was molded to make you crack under pressure and confess anything. A type of stare that is enough to make you cry and plead a sorry even if you didn’t know what you were sorry for. A look that is masked underneath his laid back exterior he shows to the public.
There is a reason why he’s number two.
To the public it’s just Hawks, the number two hero, a man that helps elderly women cross the street and gladly holds onto your groceries with one of his delicate but strong feathers so you don’t feel inconvenienced. So you can experience a better day. He will gladly take a couple scratches and lose a couple quills for humanity so they can go home to their family and enjoy their night. But whispers travel and the villains know exactly what he is that he conceals, which makes his patrols smooth sailing. He is type of person the worst people warn to never cross paths with.
He is the glorified punching bag of society that is painted in expensive jewelry with a special title made just for him: a Hero.
But who gets to make the number two hero’s day better?
It’s not the little kids sprinting to him, looking up from his knees with bright eyes begging for an autograph. It was him pinching your nose, feeling your body trying to gasp for air while he rapidly fucks your throat, taking it all for himself.
It was never the men and women with tears in their eyes giving their thanks for saving their life. It was always the tears springing from the swift slap to your face trying to squeeze out one more apology from your stupid mouth for not listening to him.
And it is definitely not the plentiful of stupid fucking awards given to him at hero galas by the committee he is forced to accept to keep his image pure. Because is there anything actually fully pure about hero work?
Keigo felt himself slowly starting to lose his stability in the center of chaos. The feeling of murder is so short lived- he needed more than that. He didn’t like how long he had to wait until the commission had him go on another undercover expedition. That was always the rule by them: he can never kill unless authorized.
Society already has their special person to tear down and build back up as they pleased, who was going to be Keigo’s?
You, of course.
You were so willing to give up everything you had ever owned, have and thought of for the slight chance of his attention. Such a little stalker for Keigo, trying to figure out his patrol schedule just so you can see him work with a charming smile on his face. Reading fanfiction about him on websites dedicated to his heroics, touching yourself at night thinking about his sweet whispers telling you how beautiful and good you are for him.
You just knew he was such a kind and humble man in person like he executed himself on TV. You had seen over the years of heroes’ facade falling down, exposing themselves for being the corrupt and selfish person everyone had hoped they weren’t. But no, not Keigo, being the number two hero and being so young yet not much older than you, you saw him from a different light.
That is why when you willingly let yourself fall backwards down a 20 story building, you did not do it out of fear and intention of taking your own life. You did it out of joy and the safety of knowing he would be right there to catch you- because he is a hero.
For the seconds it lasted, it felt nice to flow through the sky and feel weightless. As the gravity of the earth clutches onto your body and forcefully pulls you down to your demise, it somehow did it softer than cutting a knife through butter. You let go of the breath you had been holding when you are swept up mid-air into a pair of strong arms grasping your body into his warmth. He smelled like fresh air and linen with a puff of mint coming from his lips. You peel open your eyes to see him in his glory, doing what he does best- saving people. The sun setting right behind him giving his body a glow of authority like a god. Your god.
Hawks gets you back to the ground and helps you stand still with a small comforting smile. “Take this as a sign, sweetness. Go home.” He says like its another day and pats your hair in place before turning ready to take his leave. His touch leaving a tingle from your head down to your back, you wished to have his hands on you forever.
“Wait!” You yell for him. Pulling out the letter you had handwritten for him days earlier, a confession letter. You shyly run up to hand it to him and take in his look of confusion before pushes up his visor and reads the front, ‘To Hawks ♡’.
Inside the letter was years worth of admiration and pent up love you have for what other people consider a stranger. But Hawks was no stranger to you. It only took a couple days to plan your meeting with him because you had full confidence he will be there when you fell, as it was meant to be. It was a love letter confessing you will leave everything behind for him, no matter what it took you wanted to be there to catch him if he fell too, even if you didn’t think you had the strength to keep him up. You would do anything he asked without question because he’s such a great person and deserves it the most.
‘I will lie for you, die for you, and kill for you, even if you don’t love me back. A hero needs a hero, too.’
Keigo thought it was almost too perfect.
His first thought, “this has to be some type of trick?” maybe the commission trying some sort of test on him as an evaluation? But when he looks into your dazed eyes, he knew. They were practically swirling with a heart in the middle. He thought there was no way someone has a screw loose enough to launch themselves to death in the smallest chance in being caught to give a little letter to their rescuer with a smile.
He has seen crazies before, not to this extent but close. Being in the work force for years now, his fanbase has exponentially grown as he climbed up the rankings. His female fanbase having the most growth, it was never surprising to come back to his agency with his interns bringing in a couple large boxes a week worth of love letters filled with undergarments, perfume, gifts or even money. Keigo of course has had his fair share of women in the past, none ever lasting as long because they couldn’t handle what he had to give. And what he had to give left these women bruised, crying and begging for more even if they didn’t have any more space left to take.
Your eyes, no matter the shape, still hold a roundness of naivety and innocence. A type of innocence that is special, one you dont see in a lot of people. But you have that factor. You have it all, and he wanted to be the one to take it away and give it back, force it to you.
Keigo almost wanted to laugh right in your face.
You watch as he pulls his visor back down with a small side grin, his shiny leather gloves putting the letter in his jacket pocket to keep it safe. “I’ll see you, alright, Birdy?” Pushing his wild, blonde hair back, Hawks gives you one last glance with golden eyes before taking off, the flap from his big wings pushing your hair back, leaving you alone as the sun finally sets.
.
.
.
But how could you have ever known?
Hawks didnt waste any time finding you again and getting ready to break you in. He loves the idea of it; a cute girl like you, so needy and desperate for him to go as far as jump off a building in the risk of him catching you. Because to you he was the perfect man on paper, on TV, and in person. You read everything there was to know about him online, you read every article, watched every single interview from the beginning to present of his career, there weren’t any warning signs that would have prepared you for who he was.
You wondered if his smile while being a hero was fake, if it was practiced beforehand to make sure there weren’t any marks for people to suspect. Since you’ve known him, the only time you’ve seen him smile with authenticity is when he’s crouched over your completely fucked out body, you still lowly whining how you can take more when you can’t even lift a finger.
How could a hero ever begin to act like this?
“You couldn’t have known” he murmurs against the back of your ear. His cruel and sadistic nature was intense, his words were pitched at you so fast, you couldn’t fully comprehend what he was saying.
Not through how much you couldn’t breathe with him fucking your throat with his index and pointer finger. His favorite part of your body was your throat, anatomically it’s the most vulnerable but so soft to the touch, so easy to control your life source and take it away if he wanted to.
Keigo knew what you were the moment you locked eyes with him and gave him that silly little envelope with confidence.
Naive.
A pretty, stupid little fan that didn’t know any better, a girl who trusted strangers and was so willing to throw away her life away for a man before it even started. The first time he fucked you he felt himself getting hard just beginning to think of all the things he can do to you, looking at you like you were a new play set and didn’t know where to start first.
“Aw, look at you.. my precious baby can’t breathe?” he coos, “Yeah you can, c’mon try harder..” Keigo fucks your throat with more swiftly, his fingers squelching from the pile up of saliva in your mouth. You’re desperately pawing onto his forearm trying to stabilize yourself against his front. The feeling of butterflies in your stomach is overwhelming and every push into your mouth you feel yourself getting wetter and wetter. You felt so small against him, so vulnerable, thrashing your hips against his cock trying to get away from the faint massage against your bladder and pussy from his other hand, trying to push you over the edge.
Keigo loves you like this, he loves being the one to restrict you. He knows exactly how you like it, he knows you like to pretend you don’t, feigning innocence like you always do when in reality you’re just a little bitch desperately trying to get more and more from him like every body else.
You begin to choke on his fingers, gagging as they dig themselves in your throat trying to fuck with you, and you can hear Keigo’s smug attitude, “Yeah, that’s fuckin’ right..” he groans out.
He finally pulls his fingers out your throat when he thinks you’re about to throw up and you hunch over gasping for any air you can catch, coughing with spittle dripping down your chin. Keigo holds you by your mid section keeping you close and pulling your head back to his chest. You want to act out, you want to fight back and hit him, slap him in any way you can because you love the fight, you live for riling him up until he finally snaps and yells at you, insulting your morality and fucking you in the process.
You can’t get any words out, your mind feels like a foggy and cloudy afternoon, still trying to catch your breath and Keigo playfully taps your cheek with his hand still covered in your own spit. “On your back.”
However you want to stay and prolong this moment as much as you can. Your body already feels weak like jelly and you want it to feel weaker. You barely have the strength to turn around and sit face to face with him, completely disobeying his words.
“Kei.. I want to stay up here.” You sigh into his collarbone, wrapping your arms around his sides, teasingly grinding your pussy onto this bare cock. You just wanted to stay by him, so close to his handsome face so you can kiss him- feeling his light stubble graze your cheek whenever you wanted. But he knows that glint in your eye. You look up to see that gaze. That special one perfected to make you crack under pressure and profusely apologize. It was enough to make your stomach tie knots.
Since Keigo was a little boy, he suffered with imposter syndrome and never felt a sense of fulfillment or accomplishment until he took a look at everyone else and saw how much better he was.
How he was only 18 at the time he started his career and a person that was a hero for decades could never compare to his mental resilience and physical expertise. He always felt inferior until it dolled on him that Japanese society was counting on him to feel safe. Keigo wanted to take back his sense of inferiority he developed as a kid and inflict it back wherever he could. Fortunately, there just so happened to be a pretty girl who was oh, so willing to let him.
No, she didn’t understand everything he had to go through to get where he was now, she would never get it. She doesn’t have to kill people to survive, she doesn’t have to live with the knowledge that millions of people count on her to live a normal life so they stripped her of her own.
She can live her life making mistakes without care, but if Keigo ever did, it’s blood on his hands. He is blamed for it all. She won’t ever have to deal with that.
But at least he can make her feel it.
“You wanna fuck with me, huh?”
You see his jaw tick in anger and his closed grin does nothing to cover it up but make it worse. He snaps.
You can almost feel his anger wash over you and it feeds you the energy you need to take what he’s gonna give you whether you like it or not, and you always like it. You pull back to try and console him. “Kei..”
Keigo quickly grips your jaw with force, smile gone and pulls you close. “This is what you wanted, wasn’t it?” He shakes you. “Huh? You like this shit don’t you?” He locks eyes with you searching for an answer, mocking how pathetic you look. “Hmm? Does it make you feel good, baby? Letting me manhandle you, knowing I’m gonna use your body however I want to?” You puff out a little whine in response to his accusation.
He quickly lets go and pushes your head back onto the bed, forcibly turning your body around. Pulling on the roots of your hair he pulls you up holding onto the softness of your neck after pressing a soft kiss to your head. “Remember this, birdy, this is for me. This is all so I feel good..” he pants against your neck teasing your folds feeing your legs twitch at every graze of his fingers. “Such a pathetic little bitch letting me treat you like this, throwing away your life for me just to get fucked like you don’t matter..”
That is what you did, isn’t it? You always had a choice after you stupidly jumped off a 20 story building. He showed you exactly who he was and still, you ended up at his mercy, crying for more of his callous treatment because you can’t get enough.
You sniffle and whine at the intense pleasure caused by his rudeness. You pant as his calloused fingers ravage their way down to your opening, your pussy anticipating Keigo just fully shoving it inside you. “Kei.. I’m sorry. Please, please, make me feel good. I’ll be good I swe-“
He swiftly swats the side of your face, breath hitching at the surprise, your cheek tingling from the sensation leaving you lovingly lightheaded. You shut up and take whatever he has to give you with nothing less a smile on your face. You wish he’d just shove his cock anywhere he pleases just so he can forgive you, just so you can hear that sweet rumble of praise from how good you are for him. Because Keigo’s approval of you is just as good as his degradation, both are enough to make you cry out of joy.
More tears follow the last, not because it hurt but the desperation for any part of him to be inside of you kills you inside, you’d die for it, and he knows that.
He stiffles a cruel laugh. “Aw, you cryin’? Don’t start crying now, you’ll turn me on too much..” After so much anguish he pushes his fingers inside of you, mercilessly going in and out, not giving you time to prepare. You yelp and cry inadvertently trying to crawl away from how overstimulating it feels, yet you just fall chest down ass up onto the plush bed, holding onto his freehand by your head like a clutch.
The only sound in the room coming from your drooling pussy squelching over and over, each jab drenching and pulling his fingers inside even more. Keigo curses at how warm you are, he can feel it. He knows exactly how your masochistic body likes to operate. Purposely taunting and arousing him until he’s forced to jackrabbit the fuck out your pussy until you pass out and still continue- fucking your passed out body till he sees creamy white spill out, moaning while forcing every drop of cum he has left right in your pretty womb with a nice low groan of pleasure. You both know you don’t have to say it to want it.
The feeling is so intense you’re just a babbling mess- no pure or smart thoughts, just mumbling out of pleasure to mumble. Your eyes are limp and dazed looking at the dimmed sky from the window, gripping onto Keigo’s wrist next to your head as if the bed will swallow you whole if you let go. You sense that potent feeling of an orgasm about to let loose, your babbles become load moans. The sound of your sloppiness getting louder with your voice. Keigo grazes his sight down your sheen body and curses as he finally pulls his hand out your sloppy pussy, leaving strings of your arousal. He can feel how agonizingly hard his cock is just from touching you, tip leaking white and ready to give to his sweet, bumbling girl.
He drips down spit to your pussy for good measure and looks back at your head to see you giving him the most loving look he’s ever seen in his life.
Keigo would never admit it, but it’s the first time he’s ever received and reciprocated such an intimate gaze. He puffs a nice low groan, looking down biting his lip as he finally pushes himself into your warmth, watching you slowly swallow him with white all the way up to the base of his big cock.
“That’s right sweet girl, I know you want it, I know your whore pussy wants it so bad- let me give it to you..” he leans down and grips your neck with a threatening squeeze, “This is all you’re good for,” he lowly hums, hissing as he gives another rigorous thrust. “You don’t wanna let me go n’ I won’t give us up, birdy, as long as you cum for me, alright? Let me use you- take care of you..” The feeling was almost too much for Keigo, he had never imagined someone that was good enough for him, that there was someone that could be a pillar in his completely fucked and screwed up life others curated for him.
After every thrust your pussy leaves a white ring and squelches as an invite to shove himself right back in even harder than the last, to make your response louder than the before.
Inbetween the moment you still find the energy to confess your love to him but can barely get halfway before he quickly covers your mouth and gives his last powerful thrusts into you. Huffing and groaning not being able to hold back how good you feel while you fuck him back in desperation like he knew you would, like you always do.
Practically drooling with whimpering sobs and tears behind his strong calloused hand, at last your selfish pussy grasps onto his cock as you orgasm feeling liquid slosh everywhere, your yelp into Keigo’s hand not able to contain yourself. Your hips desperately trying to get away as Keigo continues to fuck your overstimmed pussy in an effort to breed you like you deserve- moaning at you completely drenching yourself with him.
He feels himself coming to an end, holding back his hiccuped gasps- using his free hand to hold and massage your pelvis directly to his. “Oh fuck, baby, that’s right- take it, take it..” he gives you everything he has in exchange for all of you- cumming with a choked grunt in your neck, filling you with his seed like he promised he would, not letting a single drop escape.
Your whole body feels tingly with the last sprinkle of dopamine in your body, shuddering as you both collapse.
It didn’t take rocket science for you to know there was just something deeply unhinged about Keigo, as he’d probably say the same about you. You can tell intimacy was something very new to his life as he tried to shut you up before you can finish your sentence. However, you didn’t really mind much.
Keigo being your first in everything, you swore to yourself and him in that letter you will hold him up even if you didn’t think you had the strength to. You want to know more about his uprising, the stories he doesn’t tell in “exclusive” interviews- you are much more than a stupid fan and did not care if he thought of you as naive.
A slight wind chill comes through the crack in the window cooling off both your bodies. Keigo grips your jaw with need, pulling your head back to share his first kiss together filled with passion and little butterflies all over your body that leaves you wanting more. He lifts up an arm and gently pets back your hair and rubbing your head in the process letting you rest right next to him.
Even with how callous Keigo can get to leave you completely speechless and subdue you, you will take every slap, kiss, and word because the sick part of you wants it more than air itself. As for Keigo, he needed to find something he can tear and build back up, having no way to cope with the consistent pressure of the world and wanting a way out for a moment.
He loves to tear you down, but wants to keep you extra close and pay attention to every detail as he builds you back up,
to make you just as perfect as you were before.
Oh my gosh that’s it! My first story in over two years since my senior writing class haha. I hope you all enjoyed, feel free to let me know your thoughts or writing critiques- i always want to get better.
Please reblog and like, thank you ʕ⁎̯͡⁎ʔ༄
#mha angst#my hero academia#boku no hero academia#bnha smut#keigo takami#hawks x reader#keigo takami x reader#keigo takami x y/n#hawks x y/n#tw.degradation#tw.breeding#tw.overstimulation#tw.smut#tw.dumbification#tw.dubcon#pitou.writes#pitou.fics
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I don't think I've ever brought up Morro and Lloyd's bond which is actually really funny because if this was 2020, I'd write a whole paragraph about them. I still will anyways. (In the situation that if Morro were to ever return back to the living)
At first, they both avoided each other as if they were going to contract the plague. It became more of a competition eventually: Who will leave the room the fastest when the other walks in? Who's going to make up the best excuse? Lloyd doesn't want to talk to the guy that possessed him, threw him into the water, put him through the worst month ever. Morro doesn't want to talk to the guy that took his ambition, that he believed doesn't even deserve that title, that he died for nothing, and he doesn't even understand. Why should he?
It was easy during the first few months, not acknowledging the other at all. But then avoidance became difficult, how could he ignore the guy he hates so much, if he knows they're both not going anywhere from the house (monastery)? Tell him to leave? Where else should he stay? And then guilt starts to gnaw, maybe there are unspoken things that they should speak of, maybe they were brought together for, not a chance of redemption- but understanding.
That's how Lloyd finds himself fidgeting with a cracked chunk of the Monastery's stairs- until it cracks, and it became a pebble, and he's sitting beside the guy he did not imagine ever able to. It's really awkward, they want to leave, never speak again, but they just can't. Neither of them knows why.
"It sucks." Lloyd says, he was so quiet.
"`What?" Morro responds, his voice sounds like a snake about to bite, always does.
"Being the Green Ninja. It's not- it's not as great as you imagined."
"Obviously," Lloyd almost winced at how Morro spat those words. "It's you, because it's you. You didn't train for it, your uncle just unrolled a scroll and shoved your face on it."
"..." He looked at Morro, his fists were clenched, his face seemed calm but they both knew he was trying to hold back a punch. Lloyd almost wondered if Morro could've thrown him off the stairs, if he could. But- "You're right."
"What?" Neither of them expected that. But Lloyd found himself a revelation. Morro stared, waiting for him to answer, Lloyd thinks, That's the first time he's ever looked at me.
"You're right, I don't deserve it," Lloyd shrugged carelessly. "I don't deserve it as much as you, Morro. You were promised a destiny and you tried to live up to that expectation, you were ready to face the world but-" It was pointless in the end. The sentence hung in the air unspoken.
Morro looked at him but said nothing, and for the first time, there was no spite in his eyes. Nothing, just a blank stare.
"I think... I think if you were the Green Ninja, things could have been better." Lloyd said, he looked beyond, his gaze wandered elsewhere, he seemed distant. "At least you wanted it, right? I didn't have a choice, I don't think I did. My uncle just unrolled a scroll and shoved my face on it. I just wanted to be a boy, I wanted to cause trouble, I wanted to steal candy. But he told me that when I grow up, I had to beat up a bad guy- my dad- I thought I had to kill him and I- I was a kid."
Morro spoke nothing still.
"I thought I had time to spare, I thought maybe I could still be a kid, I could live with training and annoying. But I grew up, I didn't ask for that either, I never got to be who I wanted, and I still don't know what I want. I wasn't ready, but you were. Even if you don't agree, Morro, but you know what you were going to be."
They were once young birds, pushed off the nest by the parent. One, prepared to soar its wings, far too excited to realize the ground was before its eyes, the other so terrified it was able to soar as it needed to.
"I hate you." Morro's words were a whisper, but they held no disdain at all.
"I know."
"I really, fucking hate you."
"I know."
Yet, there was a gentle breeze that drifted past them anyways. It was so gentle, it felt like the softest hug. They sat in silence, adrift, there was nothing left to say.
Morro was the first to stand from either of them, he left without a glance to spare, he left without a smile, or a word. The breeze trailed after him, whether he knew or not, he did not care.
But nonetheless, Lloyd remained unphased, neither of them looked back. He did not feel upset, nor did he feel happiness, he felt relief. He smiled.
He wondered, if in another place, another time, maybe the bird who yearned to fly took its wings, maybe it caught its unprepared companion, maybe they soared together, soared like freedom.
#sorry this turned into a fanfic idk how#they're brothers and i will hold onto that#ninjago#lloyd garmadon#ninjago lloyd#ninjago morro#ninjago headcanon#ninjago fanfiction#should i tag it as that#wahtever#i literally wrote beyond a paragraph this is so funny guys#ninjago au
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Ok now that I've seen Scorpions dialogues I wanted to change a little my request, still make it like a s rivals to lovers type of thing with Smoke x reader, but is more of like "we disliked each other at first but we say our good on us and became close", kinda like with Kenshi and Johnny
I’m so sorry for the wait lovely, this is soooooo not my wheel house T_T Hopefully it came out ok and you enjoy it!
Title: First Impressions Can Be Deceiving
Rating: Mature (sweet loving)
Pairing: Smoke x Afab!Reader
Summary: After the events that happened at Madam Bo’s you were convinced you hated the Lin Kuei, especially the one who hurt Madam Bo, but as time goes on you realized you may have misjudged him, and develop feelings for him?!
Author’s Note: I am AWFUL at enemies/rivals to lovers, and tried my best, Smoke is very kind and gentle like the sweet cinnamon roll he is. Please like/comment/reblog if you enjoyed it. Thank you lovelies <3
Your first impression of the warrior called Smoke was not a good one, you were introduced to him at the raid on Madam Bo’s Tea House and even though Lord Liu Kang had assured you Smoke and his fellow Lin Kuei were there to test you and the other champions, Smoke’s actions had left a bad taste in your mouth. Surely there was a better way to subdue Madam Bo than to throw her off a balcony, even if she was tougher than she looked she was still a respected elder. You didn’t like the whole thing and maybe your anger should have been directed at Lord Liu Kang, but in your mind, it was the Lin Kuei to blame.
The next time you saw the Lin Kuei was when you and the other champions were training at the Wu Shi academy and despite your earlier misgivings you were slowly starting to realize maybe Smoke at least wasn’t as bad or arrogant as you thought he was. He was polite and courteous to Lord Liu Kang and the rest of you. It perplexed you because you had already made up your mind you didn’t like him or the Lin Kuei. His voice cuts through your thoughts though before you had time to process things fully.
“How are you liking your time at the Wushi Academy? The monks truly are masters at their craft are they not?” Smoke asks taking a seat next to you.
“Their dedication is second to none, it’s quiet a sight to behold,” you reply, forcing yourself to make polite small talk.
“I can’t help but feel like I need to apologize to you, the other warriors don’t seem to have any problems with myself of my brothers, but you seem to. The Tea House was a test, Madam Bo knew all about it and was in on it, I would never hurt an elderly woman of my own accord. So, I’m sorry we deceived you, but I assure you it was all at the behest of Lord Liu Kang,” Smoke tries to explain for what seems like the thousandth time.
“You bashed her head into a railing and threw her off a balcony! In on it or not that’s just too much! You could have killed her!” You snap at him angrily. “Madam Bo is a kindly old proprietress not a master martial artist!”
“That’s where you’re wrong y/n, Madam Bo is a former Lin Kuei and IS a master martial artist, she trained Raiden and Kang Lao from childhood as she helped raise my brothers and I when she was in the Lin Kuei,” Smoke explains emphatically, desperate to convey the fact he wasn’t the bad guy here.
“She, she was Lin Kuei? Seriously?” You ask in disbelief shocked by this new revelation.
“Yes, she taught my brothers and I everything we know, well outside of my magic and my brother’s birthrights,” Smoke continues. “She’s much more sturdy than she looks, it was actually her idea to throw her off the balcony, she said it had to look realistic, to make sure the three of you actually fought to your full potential.”
“I, I see, maybe I misjudged you all but I still don’t like how the whole thing went down, and I still don’t trust you or the Lin Kuei,” you huff as you stand up and brush off your pants before stalking off. Thankfully you don’t have to deal with the Lin Kuei for long, Lord Liu Kang had other plans for them and you don’t see Smoke again until after the conflict with Titan Shang Tsung.
“Hello my dear, in order to help keep Earthrealm’s defenders strong and at peak performance I’ve organized a training exercise,” Lord Liu Kang addresses you as he materializes from his portal giving you quite the start.
“Y-yes, Lord Liu Kang, of course, as you wish,” you nod enthusiastically, looking forward to keeping your skills sharp.
“You will be training with the newly formed Shirai Ryu, their Grandmaster Kuai Liang and second-in-command Tomas, will assist you in your training and when they are satisfied will let me know you have completed your training,” he states authoritatively.
You wince internally, not them, they were the Lin Kuei, they may have a new name and might have sworn their loyalty to defending the Earthrealm, just like you had but you still had reservations about the trip. You had been able to avoid them at the Wushi Academy but it would be impossible like this, but you couldn’t say no to Lord Liu Kang. Sighing deeply you relent, “yes Lord Liu Kang, I will do my best.”
You make your preparations to travel to Japan and once you’re ready Lord Liu Kang appears to you again to transfer you there via a portal, the Shirai Ryu compound was well hidden in the countryside and traditional travel would have required many modes of transportation, so you were grateful to Lord Liu Kang for his assistance. Once you arrive you are formally introduced to Grandmaster Scorpion and his fiancée Harumi, both seem like good and honorable people despite the Grandmaster’s familial ties to the Lin Kuei’s Grandmaster, someone you definitely were not fond of. Maybe you had misjudged the former Lin Kuei members, you did think to yourself how Smoke had gone out of his way to sit with you and explain the situation with Madame Bo, slowly you found yourself less hostile. The longer you stayed with the Shirai Ryu and trained with them the fonder you found yourself of them, particularly Smoke, he was actually dare you say, sweet?
“How are you enjoying your time here, y/n?” Smoke asked you one night after the communal meal while you were enjoying the lush gardens of the Shirai Ryu Temple.
“I’ve enjoyed my time here immensely, the gardens are my favorite place to be, they’re so peaceful and serene, it makes me feel at peace,” you answer truthfully.
“I’m glad, I know you haven’t always been the biggest fan of me, but I have honestly always admired you and your skills and it’s been my pleasure to help you develop and hone your skills further, if there’s anything else I can do just let me know,” Smoke stands up making ready to leave and you tug on his pants.
“Stay with me for a bit?” You ask, almost surprised with yourself but you couldn’t lie to yourself any longer, somewhere along your stay you had developed feelings for the smoke wielder, and if you’re curious to see if he felt the same way.
“My pleasure,” Tomas answers and sits back down next to you enjoying the serene setting of the gardens with you.
“I, I have a confession to make, when I first met you I disliked you, no, down right hated you and your brothers for the events of the Tea House, but now I realize you’re nothing like that thug,” you pause to gather your courage. “The truth is Smoke, I find myself having feelings for you, I care about you and want to be closer to you, I want to be with you,” you confess, your cheeks flushed with the embarrassing words.
“I had hoped you felt the same way about me as I do for you, but I didn’t want to cross any lines or make you feel uncomfortable but zlatíčko I think I’ve been in love with you since the moment we crossed paths. Please, call me Tomas,” he returns your confession enthusiastically.
“T-Tomas,” you try his name and like the way it sounds coming from your lips, and if Tomas’ expression is anything to go by, so does he. His silvery eyes are lidded with pleasure and a faint blush spreads across his cheeks, he leans forward and closes the gap between the two of you as you share your first kiss together. It’s soft and gentle, slow and patient and wonderfully warm, the action ignites a spark of arousal just simmering in your belly, you’re immediately hungry for more. You tilt your head to the side letting the warrior deepen the kiss as you hungrily part your lips and welcome his warm tongue, it slides softly along your bottom lip as if asking permission before delving inside. You moan softly at the welcome intrusion and suck softly on his tongue pulling a soft moan from the smoke wielder, your hands wrap around him pulling him closer as your hands continue to glide over his well-muscled arms.
“Mmm zlatíčko, if you keep this up I may not be able to stop myself, I’ve found myself many lonely nights with just my thoughts of you to keep me company,” he whispers, biting his lower lip as if embarrassed.
“What if I told you I don’t want you to stop, what if I told you I may have thought about you the same way,” you reply sweetly, your lips finding his neck and sucking softly.
Smoke moans low in his throat, “please don’t tempt me, I want you so desperately,” he all but pleads with you.
“So, take me,” you whisper in a sweet invitation as you climb into his lap and you’re met with his hardness and it makes you feel bolder as you reach your hand down and start stroking at his clothed manhood. The moan he makes is so amazing and makes you feel lightheaded with arousal as you palm him harder through his pants and suck on his neck harder. Your lips soon find his again as you kiss him hard, teeth clicking together as you battle for dominance, he eventually concedes defeat as your tongue dances in his mouth and intertwines with his. You soon find yourself topless as the skilled warrior divests you of your bothersome garment, his face is pressed hotly between your breasts as he shudders slightly and rubs his smooth face against your lovely mounds. His skilled hands make quick work of your bra as he cups your breasts lovingly in his large callous hands.
“I, I must warn you zlatíčko, I’m not very skilled in the ways of pleasure, but I’m happy to do whatever I can to please you,” Smoke breathes out, embarrassed by his own shortcomings.
“We’ll have to figure it out together then because I’m afraid I’m in the same boat, I’ve well seen how things are done though,” you explain, the flush spreading to the tips of your ears now as you confide your inexperience to the other.
Softly Smoke presses a kiss to the top of your breast before his lips close around your nipple as he sucks lightly, the other hand teasing and lightly pinching your other breast earning a soft moan from you. He gradually applies more pressure sucking fervently on your nipple as his tongue swirls along the pebbled nub the action causing more heat and arousal to build up in your stomach as you feel your pants getting sticky and uncomfortable. You dip your hand underneath his waistband to grab onto his velvety shaft and he feels big and you’re suddenly a bit more nervous than you already were, but you trusted Tomas not to hurt you, so you gather your courage and start stroking his cock.
“Oh shit, that feels so good,” he hisses pulling away from your nipple and moans slightly the sound getting stuck in his throat.
“I want you, please,” you whine cutting the foreplay short the feeling of his hard cock so eager for you stroking your ego to the point that waiting is no longer an option.
“Are you sure?” He asks panting softly as you keep stroking his length in his pants as he moves to continue undressing you but stops to make sure this is what you really want.
“Make love to me Tomas,” you sigh softly giving him a soft kiss before rolling off him and lying in the soft grass of the picturesque garden.
“As you wish my lady,” he smiles and swallows audibly, clearly battling with some nerves, but he shakes them off the best he can as he pulls his top off and helps pull your pants and panties off. He can’t help himself though, he has to sneak a taste as he presses your thighs apart and slots his head in between your thighs, and runs his tongue over your luscious little pussy, it's welcoming and sticky with your want. He moans deeply as he gets his taste and the vibrations reverberate through your body pulling a startled cry of his name from you.
“Tomas please, stop teasing,” you whimper and wriggle the action of just his tongue alone was almost enough to overload your inexperienced body.
“Sorry,” he offers sheepishly before kicking his pants off and positioning himself between your legs, he grabs his cock and rubs the slick velvety head along your slit a few times before resting at your entrance. “Let me know if it hurts,” he tells you before kissing your forehead and slowly pushing inside your impossibly tight warmth.
You cry softly as you feel his cock opening you up and pushing inside you, it feels full, so full, and slightly uncomfortable, you suddenly feel a jolt of pain and a slight tearing sensation as Tomas keeps pushing steadily in. “Oh fuck, it hurts a little, but at the same time it feels nice, I-I can’t explain it,” you whimper as you wrap your arms around Smoke’s well-built shoulders.
Tomas immediately stills, “do you want me to pull out, or stop? We don’t have to do this,” he insists.
You shake your head ‘no’ and squeeze gently around him earning a sharp breath from Tomas, “no, please keep going.” You squirm slightly and roll your hips experimentally against his cock as he finishes burying it inside your plush walls, it feels like it's too much but at the same time, it feels like it was built just for you. “Oh Tomas, you feel so good,” you whine.
“Heh, I was about to say the same thing about you zlatíčko,” he quips back as he holds himself still, letting you adjust despite his desire to feel more of your sticky, tight wetness.
“You-you can move, I think, please?” You ask him softly as the burn and sting dissipate as your body acclimates to his cock.
He starts thrusting slowly and it feels heavenly, you moan immediately as his cock starts moving inside your tight canal. He makes soft noises as his cock disappears in and out of your tight, wet pussy, “god, you’re perfect zlatíčko, so warm and tight, it feels so much better than my hand.”
“Tell me about it,” you moan in agreement and cant your hips slightly and suddenly cry out sharply as Tomas’ cock suddenly hits something inside you that makes you see stars. “Do, do that again,” you practically demand and Tomas repeats the action pulling another shaky cry from you. “Oh please, yes, that’s so good Tomas,” you whimper as you focus on keeping your hips at the perfect angle so each one of his thrusts hit that sweet spot over and over. You cling to his body as he thrusts in and out of you, the arousal building and building in your stomach as he keeps a steady pace.
“I’m not going to last much longer zlatíčko, where do you want me to cum?” Tomas asks and he’s breathy and dripping in sweat as he starts fucking you harder now, chasing his release.
You panic and you aren’t sure where you want him, “in-inside please, I want to feel you cum, please Tomas, just a little more, I’m so close,” you beg him, eyes squeezing closed as your stomach tightens almost unpleasantly.
“As you wish,” he pants and keeps plunging in and out of your tight pussy, his body shaking with exertion.
“To-Tomas!” You squeal as your orgasm suddenly washes over you, the pleasure jolting down your spine as your toes curl and you feel lightheaded as you hit your high.
Tomas holds you tight and moans loudly as you want soaks his cock making it hard to keep it inside you, he manages though as he quickly falls over the edge as your pussy walls flutter and grasp his cock.
You shake slightly as you feel Tomas’ release flooding your tight pussy and you whine at the sensation, you can’t stop shaking as the feeling of your lingering orgasm intensifies knowing you had pushed Tomas to his limit too.
Tomas tries to pull in deep breaths of air as he tries to get his breathing back under control as he moves to pull out of you, concerned he might be hurting you.
“Please stay close, it feels so good,” you whimper, shyly as you hold him, unwilling to let go of your post-coitus glow.
“Whatever you want zlatíčko,” he smiles and holds you until you're ready to let him go.
#mortal kombat#mk smoke#tomas vrbada#tomas x reader#tomas x you#smoke x reader#smoke x you#mortal kombat x reader#mortal kombat x you#afab reader#tw smut#sweet#enemies to lovers#rivals to lovers#fluff#nsft#ns/fw#requests#sorry for the wait#<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3#my writing#writing
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Cardan’s letters pov
Part 2: nearer
A/n: this part is a fair bit longer lmk if you wanna be tagged for the other parts
Part 1. Part 3
I stared at Taryn from across the room. She was laughing at something a courtier had said. I’d contemplated asking her if she’d heard from Jude, but as far as I knew she still thought Jude and I hated each other. And asking as to her well-being would be suspicious.
“Cardan.”
It took all my self control to not flinch at that voice.
I turned to him, “Locke.”
“You seem to be particularly gloomy tonight.”
I ignored him and looked at the faeries, all of them drunk or drinking, laughing and dancing. Happy.
“You could have you pick of any of them.” I could hear the smirk in his voice. “Maybe more than just one. Wouldn’t be the first time now would it?”
I wish Jude was here. I’d ask her to stab him. Not so bad that he would die, just enough to shut him up.
I’d been like that the past weeks. I’d sent the letter 8 days ago. She’d now been gone for 19 days. If past Cardan could see me know, moping over a mortal, fantasising about my former best friend getting stabbed, not even touching the wine in my hand, he’d laugh and sneer, call me pathetic.
“No it would not.” I still didn’t look at him.
“This mood wouldn’t have to do with a certain Duarte sister’s recent exile would it?”
“In case you’ve forgotten, Locke,” I threw as much venom into his name as possible. “I exiled her, I knew exactly what I was doing.”
“Yes well, usually by now you’d be drunk out of your mind, a few lovely ladies draped over you and a gaggle of courtiers hanging off your every alcohol-slurred word.” He laughed. “Seems that that crown has made you rather boring.”
I wanted to throw said crown at him.
“Come join the party, a bed that big is surely too big for only one.”
There was only one woman I wanted in my bed. And she was currently in the mortal world.
“Perhaps you should be more worried about the amount of people who may be in your wife’s bed.” I threw a pointed glance at Taryn, standing awfully close to a green-haired faerie.
I would bet my title that Locke had not stayed loyal to his wife. The fae had twisted views on fidelity to one’s spouse, it was frowned upon, but also expected, especially among the likes of Locke, who believed they could do whatever they wished, I wouldn’t be surprised if Taryn took another lover to balance it all out. I had no intentions of ever betraying the trust of my wife.
Though I had already done that when I exiled her hadn’t I?
Locke didn’t even look at Taryn. Since we were both married to a Duarte sister, that technically made us brothers, though I would rather be drowned than ever acknowledge that to him.
“What my wife chooses to do with her spare time is none of my concern.”
Yes, like pretend to be her sister and trick the king into removing his general from his oaths, allowing him to do whatever he wants.
“Did you have any particular reason for bothering me Locke?” I looked at him, brows raised, unamused.
“Yes, about my birthday.”
“Your birthday is in five months.” That was it?
“Yes, I have something extravagant planned and I-”
I could see where this was going. “You are not using my gold to pay for your foolish personal revels, you have enough of your own.”
There was a flash of anger in his gaze as he said, “Very well. It appears some of Jude’s sensibility rubbed off on you,” and he left.
Good riddance.
I turned my attention back to studying Taryn. Everyone said they were identical, and they were, but I could tell the difference. Taryn didn’t seem to glow the way Jude did. Didn’t draw attention, didn’t make me want to do foolish things like declare how I felt for the world, risk war simply to get her back, do the things that haunted my most depraved thoughts.
Or maybe I couldn’t, since Taryn had fooled me. But I had been poisoned. And she had a strange quality to her skin.
I got up from the throne and left the party, walking to my room.
I was going to write another letter to Jude.
Locke was right, the bed was too big for just one. So I had to convince my wife to come back to me, to join me in that bed.
Jude,
Please come home, back to me, I need you
Why was putting my thoughts into words so difficult?
Maybe I should’ve been paying attention in school instead of getting drunk and spending half my time tormenting Jude and the other half staring at her and hoping no one noticed.
There had to be a reason she hadn’t come back didn’t there?
I assumed she was staying with Vivienne in the mortal lands, where Oak was as well. One would think if anything happened to her Vivienne would tell me, or at least tell Taryn, and if Taryn heard, Locke would, and he would undoubtedly lord it over me.
No.
Jude was stronger than that. She would never let anything in the mortal lands harm her, even if through nothing but force of will.
I wondered if her every waking moment was as filled with thoughts of me as mine were of her.
The guard had assured me that the last letter had made it to a messenger, so I didn’t see how she would not get it.
There was only one other reason she wasn’t coming back: me.
Had she felt that betrayed by the exile that she was staying away to spite me? Was the thought of being married to me, being my queen, that horrible that she didn’t want to come back? It seemed like something she would do.
Jude,
Since I cannot imagine there is much in the human lands to interest you, I can only suppose your continued absence in Elfhame is due to me.
I urge you. Come be angry at a nearer distance.
Cardan
I refrained from begging her to come back. Though if she didn’t respond to this I very well might.
If I had any clue where she was I’d go there personally. But I’d need to ask Taryn, and I did not want to talk to her.
This time I personally took the letter to a messenger I found scampering through a hallway. Half human male. Might be inclined to deliver a letter to another human.
“Make sure this gets to her.”
He nodded and took off, no questions as to why the king was sending a letter to his exiled seneschal.
It was out of my hands now.
All I could do was wait.
#cardans letters pov#cardan greenbriar#jude duarte#jurdan#the cruel prince#the queen of nothing#queen of nothing#folk of the air#the folk of the air#tfota
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passenger princess (90s!trey parker x fem!reader)
Thanks to my beloved mutual @sqiblet for the title and inspiring the concept with a message they sent me a week or so ago.
Content:
- Road head (woohoo)
- Mean!Trey
- Degradation AND praise kinks
- Hair pulling
- Everyone's a switch and nothing hurts (except for when it's meant to)
Word Count: 2,826
Disclaimer: This explicit story was written by an adult for consumption by other adults only. If you are under 18, please do not read or interact in any way.
Hope you enjoy.
- Pen
-
You shift in the passenger seat, eyes opening slowly. Squinting at the clock on the dash through the dark, you find that it is currently 10:47 PM.
Jesus, you think as you blink and stretch. I've been asleep for over four hours.
You straighten in your seat, turning to look at your boyfriend as he stops at a red light. Even in the dim light from the road, you can see that Trey looks tired, and no wonder.
The two of you threw a handful of your belongings into the trunk of his car before the sun rose this morning and started driving out to California. You're headed to some cheap little apartment that you've never even seen in person because Trey and Matt rushed to sign the lease as soon as they finished the walkthrough. You don't know exactly what to expect. You just know that your life as you've known it all these years is done, and you're starting over.
You should be scared shitless, but you aren't. You owe all of that to the guy in the driver's seat.
A drowsy smile comes over your face. It might not be smart, but you would follow him anywhere. Once school was over and the first movie was out, the possibility of success seemed all the more real. It just wouldn't be too easy to find in Colorado. When he suggested pooling some money together and heading towards LA sooner rather than later, he was only met with agreement from Matt and Dian. And you, of course.
Now the four of you have a one-bedroom apartment waiting for you on the outskirts of the city. It's real, and it all could be the world's dumbest flight of fancy, but you can't bring yourself to worry about it right now.
Not when your boyfriend looks so fucking beautiful in the glow of the traffic light.
"Hey," you rasp out, throat still scratchy from your nap.
He glances over at you, shooting you a tired smile. "Good morning," he says, despite the fact that you still have a little over an hour to go before midnight. "How'd you sleep?"
"As good as I can in a car." Taking note of the dark circles forming under his eyes, you ask: "Do you want to switch off again?"
He shakes his head, loose strands of his newly-bleached hair falling over his face. "Nah," he says. "We've only got a few more miles 'til the rest stop. Then we can stop for the night."
You frown. "You sure? You look like you're about to fall asleep…"
"I'll be fine," he assures you. His free hand lands on your thigh as the light changes, squeezing as the car creeps back into motion. "As long as I have you to keep me awake, I'll be good."
You grin, reveling in the feeling of his fingers against your skin. You find yourself wishing he would dig them in just a little bit harder, leave behind some of those pretty bruises you love so much. Reminders of who you belong to. "Keep you awake, huh?" you ask. "How?"
"Talk to me," he responds easily. Try as he might to play coy, you are keenly aware of his hand climbing higher and higher up your leg, stopping at the seam of your shorts before traveling back down. "Have any interesting dreams?"
You laugh. "Do you want me to be honest or make one up?"
"Hmm… Honesty first."
"We made it to the apartment," you tell him. "We were unpacking. It was a dumpy little place, but I was just so happy that it was ours."
"Mmm-hmm." He gives your thigh a slight squeeze. "And what about the more interesting one?"
You bite back a laugh as your own hand travels across the center console, stopping to hover over his zipper. "I found a more fun way to keep you awake."
You can tell that he's struggling not to look down at where your hand is going, wondering if you're getting at what he suspects. "And what was that?"
With that, your hand meets denim. "I blew you while you were driving."
Before he can try to suppress it, a groan breaks up from the back of his throat. "Shit," he curses.
A spark of satisfaction runs through you, noting that he's already getting hard before you even start moving your hand. It really doesn't take much. "You didn't seem tired anymore, that's for sure." You manage to keep your voice level as you palm him through his jeans, hiding the fact that you're getting wet at the mere thought of it. "Only problem was you only had one hand on the wheel. The other one was on the back of my head, pushing me further down onto your cock." You laugh. "We made a real mess, too. I tried to swallow it all, but…"
Your words drift off as he finally digs his fingers into your skin, biting out an order. "Shut up."
Though the dominance in his tone makes your heart flutter, you continue your teasing. "Wanna do it for me?"
"Fuck." The hand that was resting on your leg falls away, reaching to undo your seatbelt. "Come here."
You hesitate. It's always fun to get him hot and bothered, then piss him off. All the better outcome for you. "You really think you'll be able to concentrate on the road while I'm sucking you off?"
"Yeah, I will," he snaps. "Just get over here and…"
"Okay, okay." You lean over the center console, contorting yourself in a less-than-comfortable position. Though it's really only a mild inconvenience, you opt to put on for just a bit longer. See how wild you can drive him before getting down to it. "You know… This is sort of an awkward position…"
"Don't care," he cuts you off. "Just… Fucking…"
"Shouldn't you be a bit more patient?" you chastise him, even though you're already tugging down his zipper.
He huffs. "Shouldn't you be a little less of a fucking tease?" He freezes, shivering slightly under your touch as you quickly manage to snap the button on his jeans and tug them down.
Though you know he isn't looking at you, you smile up at him, anyway. "You know that you love it, baby," you coo, planting your hands against his trembling thighs. "Look at you. You try to be all mean, but you're fucking shaking for me."
His jaw clenches. You know he's about to say something that would probably hurt your feelings if you weren't so damn turned on. Before he can, you grab ahold of his cock through the thin fabric of his boxers, inspiring a desperate gasp as he involuntarily bucks his hips up into your hand.
You laugh. Suddenly, you're the mean one. "See? You can try to take control all you want, but at the end of the day you're just my good boy."
Your eyes flicker back up to take in his expression, only for heat to pool in your belly.
Yeah. You've really done it now.
Though he's obviously flustered, it's all the more apparent that he's pissed off. You love this struggle that the two of you regularly engage in, the constant question of who will be the first to give in and let the other have their way with them.
Tonight, you had no intention of winning this struggle. You just wanted to see how much it would take to push him over the edge.
When he stops at the next light, you know for sure that you've reached that point. His hand momentarily leaves the steering wheel, pulling his pants down the rest of the way while the fingers of his other hand curl beneath your jaw, holding your head in place. "You and your smart fucking mouth," he spits. "I'm gonna give you something else to do with it."
Just like that, any semblance of dominance leaves you. You find yourself whimpering, relishing the force of his touch. "Please."
He laughs. "Please?" he echoes. "Baby, you don't have to beg." He releases your jaw, his left hand returning to the steering wheel as his right settles on the back of your neck. You swear you could melt into the seats as he presses down. "Just fucking take it."
With those words, you do exactly as you were told.
He groans as you wrap your lips around him, tongue running over the side of his cock. You cast your eyes up again just in time to see him catch himself after leaning back against the headrest as his left hand curls back around the steering wheel. "There we go," he chokes out as he straightens his posture.
You feel a rush of heat between your thighs as his hand moves from your neck to your hair. Now that he has you where he wants you, his forcefulness has melted away into tenderness. "That's my good girl," he praises you as you lick back up the side and over his head. You moan around him at the affectionate name, inspiring a breathy chuckle.
"You like that, don't you?" he asks. "Yeah, you do. My desperate little good girl, sucking my cock to keep me awake while I drive."
The car begins to move again as you continue to work him. By this point, you have each other memorized, knowing exactly what sends one another over the edge. You know exactly where to press your tongue, when to hollow your cheeks around him, how fast to go. It's familiar, but it isn't boring by any stretch of the imagination. You're just waiting for the reward of making him come, — a privilege that never gets old.
You could never get tired of his voice, either. You swear that every word and sound that leaves his mouth makes you wetter, spurring you on.
Despite the fact that his eyes are focused on the road, Trey sounds just as thoroughly debauched as if you were kneeling in front of the couch. Each desperate groan inspires you to slow down, drawing out every repeated movement as the salty taste of precome meets your tongue.
"Fuck," he curses as you swirl your tongue around his head at a frustratingly slow pace. "Thought you were done being a little tease…" His complaint is cut off by a gasp as you abruptly take him all the way down.
His fingers tangle in your hair as a desperate, high-pitched sound escapes his mouth. Finally, he reaches the back of your throat, eliciting a gag.
"Holy shit, baby." You feel his thighs shaking beneath your hands again as he forces out the breathy curse. He lets out another sharp gasp as you momentarily lift your head, only to lower yourself back down, constricting around him again with a quiet choked sound.
With that, his desperate moan turns into a growl. "That's what you want, huh?" he asks. "You want me to fuck your throat?"
You bob your head again, resulting in another gag, followed by an affirmative hum.
He laughs, fingers running absentmindedly over your scalp. "Pretty little slut," he mutters before bucking his hips up against your mouth.
Tears prick at your eyes as you gag again. The growing warmth between your legs causes you to shift a bit, squeezing your thighs together in an attempt to satisfy your growing desire to be touched.
Each buck is harsh, though the violence of your gag reflex's response lessens over time. Even still, Trey's hand in your hair and the sounds that he makes are enough to leave you whimpering, shifting against the seat desperately.
"Such a good fucking slut for me… Oh, fuck…" He rolls his hips up again, causing your throat to tighten at the same time that your walls clench around nothing. You can feel him, pulsing and twitching in your mouth, letting you know that he's getting close.
The way his hand tightens in your hair confirms this suspicion. You moan as he collects a handful of hair and harshly tugs before pushing you back down on him. "Is this what you wanted?" he asks through a series of strained groans. "Wanted me to use you? Wanted me to treat you like my own little fuckdoll?"
You try to hum an agreement, only for an unintelligible sound to break up from your throat.
He laughs. The combination of affection and condescension makes you even wetter. "Don't talk with your mouth full, baby." He pushes your head down again, resulting in another choked sound.
You focus on breathing through your nose as each push of his hips gets faster and his groans grow louder and more desperate.
"I'm gonna come," he announces. "Gonna fill up your pretty little mouth…"
He gives your hair an especially harsh pull as he releases with a loud, shaking groan. You let out a quiet, desperate sound as warm come fills your mouth, swallowing around him as he rides out his orgasm.
Finally, he relaxes back against the seat with an unsteady sigh. "Fuck…" His fingers relax in your hair, going back to stroking gently as your breathing begins to even out. "You okay, baby?"
You nod as you pull away, running your hand across your mouth as you swallow once more. "Yeah," you choke out, voice slightly rough.
He hums in reply as he flicks on his turn signal, turning into a convenience store parking lot.
He pulls the car into a dimly-lit parking space before reaching for the glove compartment. He comes up with a stack of fast food napkins. He uses one to clean himself up before fixing his pants. Discarding the first napkin, he turns towards you. "C'mere, hon."
You scoot closer to him, allowing him to begin wiping at your face.
You lean slightly into his hand as he cleans up the mascara-tinged tear streaks and mixture of come and drool. "You weren't kidding," he comments as he grabs another napkin. "We really do make a mess together."
Finally, he deems his work satisfactory, crumpling the last napkin before gently cupping your face in both hands. He presses a gentle kiss against your lips before pulling back, running his thumb against your cheek. "So good for me," he says. "I love you."
You smile, resting your forehead against his. "Love you, too."
You stay there like that for a moment before he gently pats your cheek. "Let's go get something to eat, hmm?" he says. "My treat."
-
You sit your selection of various snacks aside, grabbing a large cup from the stack next to the soda fountain. As you fill the cup up with ice, you feel a familiar pair of arms snake around your waist.
You smile as Trey rests his chin on your shoulder, holding you as though you were standing in your own kitchen and not some random convenience store in the middle of the night. "Find anything you like?" he asks.
You lean back into him, pulling your cup away from the ice dispenser. "Mmm-hmm."
"Good." He kisses your forehead as he pulls away. "I'll be able to actually spoil you one day. I promise."
Warmth blooms in your chest at that thought. You don't care if the spoiling part ever comes to fruition. Just the promise of one day is enough for you, assuring you that, whatever the future holds, you'll be doing it together.
-
He doesn't let you drive the rest of the way to the rest stop. "Just a few minutes," he tells you. "Then we can both get some sleep."
Soon enough, you're parked in the parking lot, hulking trucks on all sides. The two of you climb into the backseat, where Trey takes off his jacket and folds in his lap. "Here."
You lay your head in his lap with a contented sigh, allowing him to go back to playing with your hair. You close your eyes, leaning into his touch.
"Do you want me to, ah… Do anything for you?" he asks quietly.
You laugh, shaking your head. "We'll be at the apartment tomorrow. Matt and Dian won't be up here for a few days. We'll have plenty of time." You laugh. "Too many creepy old truckers here."
"I'd make those truckers look the other fucking way…"
You swat at him lazily. "Shut up. I know you can't fight."
"For you, I could."
You look up at his dark-circled eyes and make an incredulous sound. "I don't think you could even stay awake for long enough."
"For you, I could," he repeats. He reaches for your hand and pulls it up to his lips. Your eyes flutter as he plants a gentle kiss against your fingers. "Love you, baby."
"Love you, too." You close your eyes, feeling yourself beginning to drift off. "I'll see you tomorrow."
Even with your eyes closed, you can hear the smile in his voice. "Yeah," he says. "Tomorrow."
Another promise to soothe you to sleep.
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Heyyy babe 💗💗 I saw your Valentine’s event and it’s so cute!! Can I please request G + K + N for Yuuji bae? 😘💗 I am sending you lots of love and thank you for this sweet event 💗💗
Hey Winter bae!! 🤍🤍Thank you for sending this in for Yuuji-poo!🫶🏽 Sending more love back🥰
a/n: they are in their 3rd year here and gojo is still their teacher because he just has to be. nobara is also here because she just has to be.
----
❥⋱G- Gift: What did he get you?
Now, it took Yuuji a little time to decide on the perfect gift for you, because we all know our baby is a little dumb and doesn’t actually know much about what girls like. Of course, he had to drag Megumi and Nobara along for this little impromptu shopping trip, much to their (Megumi’s) disinclination.
So, as they’re strolling through the Tokyo shopping district, Yuuji's thinking hard about what you might like.
“Oh, there’s a video store! Let’s go in here!”
Megumi scowls immediately and Nobara is very tempted to slap the pinkette upside his head.
“Idiotdori, this is why girls don’t like you.” Nobara told him after following through with slapping him upside the head. Yuuji grimaced and rubbed the bump that was beginning to form through his messy pink locks.
“Y/N likes me…”
“An unfortunate revelation for her, I’m sure.”
Yuuji just decided to let that last comment fly and look around the store. Posters advertising the latest release of his favorite movie, Human Earthworm, were strewn up on the walls, which gave him an idea.
Since Valentine’s Day was right around the corner, the store had a little display shelf of romantic movies set up near the checkout counter, ranging in genres from comedy to horror. How a horror movie can be romantic, well, just ask Yuuji.
He approached the display, started picking though the titles, and came upon a strategically placed box of those friendship necklaces where one person wears half the heart and gives the second half to their significant other.
“Why are you getting her a friendship necklace, she’s your girlfriend.” Nobara chastised as Yuuji went to the counter with his armload of purchases.
“She’s also my best friend, so I think it’s a fitting gift!” The pink-haired male retorted, sticking his tongue out. Megumi was just here so he didn’t get fined.
Gojo then appeared out of thin air, giggling at how flustered Yuuji looked while he waited his turn in line, and even offered to pay for everything. Yuuji declined politely because this was going to be your first Valentine’s Day together and he wanted to do it himself.
—
Yuuji decided to give you your gifts during the Valentine’s Day party Gojo threw for the class (and had catered and everything)
He approached you with a shy disposition; unusual for him, but he was nervous that you wouldn’t like his gifts.
“Y/N! I got you this!” Yuuji thrust a big, rectangular white box with a light pink satin ribbon tied around it into your arms.
You stumbled back a bit with an ‘oof’ - the box was pretty heavy!
“I really hope that you like it!” He bowed his head with his cheeks tinted pink.
Walking over to your desk, you moved your Valentine cards and gifts from Megumi and Nobara to the side and set the box down. Upon opening it, you let out a soft gasp: inside the box laid a bouquet of small pink tulips, reminiscent of Yuuji’s hair color; the necklace, an assortment of DVDs, and multiple movie snacks.
Your eyes widened as you looked at the arrangement of everything, the time and thought that he had to put into this to make it look nice for you. First, you picked up the necklace, and a soft smile adorned your face as you read what it said.
“Best Friends Forever.”
“Flip it over.” Yuuji now stood next to you, watching with careful eyes.
On the back, one side of the necklace was engraved with his initials and the other yours.
“We can each wear the opposite, so we’ll always have a piece of each other’s heart.” He said, sounding so cute.
Your throat started to get scratchy; you had to swallow so you didn’t end up crying. Still your voice wobbled a bit,
“Yuu, I love this, and you got…Human Earthworm, all five of them, wow..” You laughed while subtly trying to blink away the tears.
“So…you like it?” Yuuji asked with his honey-gold eyes blown wide.
“I love it. This is so thoughtful; thank you, baby. I can’t wait to watch all of them with you.”
Yuuji was overjoyed that you actually ended up liking his gift! He held you to him as you wrapped your arms around his torso, then flipped Nobara the bird with a triumphant grin on his face.
Nobara rolled her eyes and turned towards Megumi, who was just silently observing from his desk.
“Why did you let him buy that?!”
“What do you mean ‘let’ - no way you’re trying to blame this on me right now…”
Meanwhile, a chibi version of Gojo was in the background snapping photos with his old-school Polaroid camera while pink hearts floated around his head.
Safe to say that Yuuji does know a little bit about what girls like. His girl, at least.
❥⋱K - Kiss: Get those lips ready! Smooches 💋
Yuuji loves kissing you! He gets so excited about it, too. It makes his heart swell with pride and love when you ask him for kisses, and even more so when others are around, because that shows just how much you're into him. Though if you're a little shy, he won’t pressure you into PDA; he never wants to make his baby feel uncomfortable, even with him. French-kissing is his favorite; he just loves the taste of you so much, and the little sounds that you make when he moves his tongue a certain way. He also likes to leave kisses (and hickies) all along the expanse of your neck and shoulder, making sure that you can still cover them with your top.
❥⋱N - Naughty: One thing he’d like to try in the bedroom.
This young man has an incredibly large sexual appetite, so honestly there’s probably not too much that you haven't tried in the bedroom already. Though something that never really crossed his mind was Facetime sex.
“Yuuji, you’re only a few rooms down from me? If you want to have sex, we just…can.” You asked in confusion.
He shook his head profusely,
“No, babe. I want to try something different. I want to be able to look at you but not be able to touch you. I want to yearn for you.”
You were pretty shocked when he admitted this but decided to give it a go-ahead.
Now, whenever you’re away on long solo missions, you’ll have to be extra careful about accepting Facetime calls from Yuuji, lest everyone around you gets an eyeful of him stroking his long, hard cock for you, whining your name, and saying how much he misses you as he overstimulates himself for your viewing pleasure.
----
valentine a-z ©bleach-your-panties 2024. do not steal, repost, or upload my shit to tiktok! reblogs always welcome!
#itadori yuuji#yuuji x reader#yuuji x reader smut#jjk yuuji#yuuji smut#yuuji itadori x reader#yuuji itadori x you#yuuji itadori headcanons#yuuji itadori drabbles#valentine's day#valentine events#valentine a-z#💗💗🍡°jjk headcanons#💗💗🍡°jjk masterlist#byp🌹#divider and divider template by cafekitsune
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Hi! Do you take requests? I was wondering if you could write something about how Joe would react if your relationship got leaked to the public? No pressure I just really loved "Eyes Open" and want more :)
Woooo! My first request :))) I took many liberties with interpreting this prompt, but I hope you enjoy it!
[Wrong Man]
Joe Quinn x Fem!Reader 🤍 Feat. Jamie Campbell Bower
Disclaimer: nothing too serious here. As always, let me know if I have missed something.
Word count: 3.2K
———————————————————
OH MY GOD YOU HAVE TO SEE THIS.
Whenever your best friend texts you in all caps, it’s followed by one of three things: a video of a hilarious pop culture moment, the revelation that some couple from your hometown deleted their photos together, or a whole lot of trouble.
She sent a series of links rapidly firing one after the other. The image previews loaded, and much to your surprise, they were all photos of Jamie Campbell Bower.
He was with some woman wearing the same coat you owned. Nice taste.
You inhaled sharply. “Some woman” was you.
Okay, this time it’s probably a whole lot of trouble.
The first link opened a website that looked like a TMZ knockoff. The article was titled in a large, bold font “JAMIE CAMPBELL BOWER IN PUBLIC WITH MYSTERY GIRLFRIEND”
Your stomach flipped. No, no, no, no.
Seeing yourself in tabloids was an odd, dissociative experience. The woman was you, but it didn’t feel like she was you. The fact that you were referenced in a headline violently clashed with your self-perception. These things happen to celebrities all the time, but you were no celebrity.
The photos barely even captured your side profile. It could have been any woman on the planet for all off-brand TMZ cared. It felt like if you just pretended hard enough, you could convince yourself that she was a stranger.
But that was your coat. And your shoes. And your nose, and your chin, and...
The camera must have been pointed directly at your face. More than anything, you were annoyed at how unobservant you had been that evening. Why did you not notice the camera?
Oh, I dunno, maybe because you two were walking through a busy parking lot.
It would have been incredibly easy for the photographer to hide behind or inside a car and drive off like nothing ever happened. Jamie was smiling in every photo. Your mouth was half open. There was no doubt that you were laughing.
It was just two days ago, so you remembered exactly what you had been speaking about. No one could have guessed how non-romantic it was.
--
“Did you know you aren’t supposed to feed bread to the ducks?” You looked out at the edge of a lake, referencing a little boy throwing his crust into the water.
“Isn’t that just a myth?” Jamie asked.
“No, I think it makes them explode or something,” you shrugged. At least, that’s what your mom told you growing up. Don’t feed the ducks bread or their tummies will burst!
“Explode?” Jamie asked going wide-eyed. “You’ve got to be joking. It’s bread, not dynamite. They don’t just combust!”
“Like in their pants, explode, not generally explode!” you whined.
“They don’t wear pants.”
“You get the point!” You threw your head back and laughed, giving in to Jamie’s reasoning.
He opened the door to the restaurant for you and took one last glance at the young duck feeder by the water. “Poor little guys,” he sighed dramatically.
Joe stood up from the table when he saw you enter. He was giddy with relief, and the eager grin plastered on his face confirmed it.
“Speaking of little guys, there’s yours. Enjoy!” Jamie quipped, prodding you towards Joe’s side of the room.
--
Joe made a reservation for a small group of friends at a gorgeous restaurant overlooking the water. Jamie just so happened to park at the same time as you.
Shame on you and Jamie for running late. The photographer either missed the on-time arrivals or purposefully ignored them to make it look like a dinner for two.
You hadn’t even been holding hands! Not once did you make physical contact with each other. How crazy would someone have to be to think you were a couple based on only these photos?
Apparently, a lot of people were exactly that kind of crazy.
Bold, clickbaity titles did their job. The article was distributed all over every social media platform. The author wove odd descriptions into the story, making it sound like something out of a tween magazine.
Apparently “the star and the mystery girl” were “looking loved up” for a “romantic dinner date”.
What a lovely way to report a discussion about bird poo.
Your mind flashed back to all the times you paid the valet double, used a restaurant's back door, and jaunted through their five-star kitchen just to have a private dinner date. It always felt odd, but you did it to avoid this exact outcome of a media storm. And for what?
The media storm happened anyway, just not with the man you expected. Becoming Jamie Campbell Bower’s girlfriend was never on Joe Quinn’s girlfriend’s agenda.
The headline was burned in the forefront of your mind. God that sounded so weird. You closed your eyes and sent up a silent wish that you would never have to hear someone call you “Jamie’s mystery girl” out loud.
What would Joe think of all this? Had he already seen?
You checked the time. He was due home any minute.
Poor Joey probably had the news broken to him by a publicist mid-meeting. You could see it now:
“Yes, Joseph. We are all set with arrangements for the gala. By the way, your girlfriend is rumored to be dating Jamie Campbell Bower.”
Not like he would believe it. He’s not that dense.
Your identity was bound to be revealed to the masses, and when that happened, Joe would be the worrier. He has a tendency to get overwhelmed by exposure, and when Joe gets overwhelmed, you worry about him in return.
You and Joe mutually agreed to avoid public interactions when you first started dating. Current events made it clear that, if you chose to reveal your relationship status, scrutiny would follow.
At the time, Joe’s female co-stars were being ripped apart solely due to guilt by association. They would give him a hug or a light arm squeeze and all of a sudden they were “fame chasers” and “too obsessed with him”. God forbid a woman be the initiator of social interaction. They were seen as forward and flirtatious at best. Slutty and delusional mostly.
Each woman went through the same vicious cycle. They had every word they said picked apart and analyzed until they slunk away into radio silence. Ironically, they received another round of backlash for not being readily available.
People shoo them away and say “Go away! but not too far away! We still need you for public consumption!”
Public consumption. That was his fear. If there was one thing Joe hoped you wouldn't become, it was a product.
Not to mention the guilt that made Joe feel like a villain. He was forced to witness social media rip his friends to shreds, watching them shrink into smaller versions of themselves. Ultimately, Joe felt responsible for the confidence they lost.
So, it was only a few weeks into your relationship before he expressed his concerns about people finding your contact information, where you work, or your home address. Even without the added pressure, Joe loves privacy.
We are talking about the same man who has an Instagram account, yet doesn’t have the app on his phone. Joe loved the luxury of having social media without really having it. Being in the position to pay someone to curate every post for him and monitor his mentions was like a dream come true.
He captured life’s best moments and kept them in a private photo album away from prying eyes. The things media outlets would pay the most to see never reach the internet. Of course, some photos receive the high honor of being sent around a family group chat. Joseph Quinn is not above sending your siblings an embarrassing photo of you.
After someone successfully tracked down Joe’s room number, you also started making hotel reservations under a fake name. Thank god they didn't show up. However, the man did call the front desk and give them a performance of a lifetime. It was convincing enough to get him transferred to Joe’s room landline.
Now, every reservation was booked under “Eddie Hugo”. (The name began as a bad joke, but was quickly recognized as the perfect codename to pay homage to both the late hero and the French writer best known for Les Miserables.)
For the purpose of special events, you were a member of Joe’s “publicity team”. Full access to green rooms and backstage areas was granted by a simple pass hanging around your neck that read “TALENT MANAGEMENT”.
It sounds deceitful, but you loved those nights. You had front row seats to all the action without trading away any anonymity.
Joe’s team knew your true identity, and much to your surprise, no one outside his inner circle ever questioned it. They probably should have after Joe cheekily assured you, within earshot of a journalist, that you were “welcome to manage his talents anytime”.
How you’ve managed to keep everything under wraps for this long? You have no idea.
To be clear, there was a distinct difference between keeping a relationship private and keeping it a secret. Joe told everyone in his life about you.
He bragged about your promotion for weeks after it happened. Joe’s father knew every minute detail of “how fabulous” you were at your job, probably against his will. Joe was so proud of your accomplishments even when you discounted them... especially when you discounted them.
Joe’s best friends had no choice but to memorize your birth date due to his tendency to rev up for it weeks in advance. He ran gift ideas by them the month prior. Then, he reminded everyone not to forget about later that month (or next week or tomorrow), because he had "big plans for her birthday."
They knew. He never let them forget.
But these were all real people in his life that he knew wouldn't leak personal information about you and become an “inside source” to some tabloid later on. They were a safe social bubble.
Now your privacy imploded in a way you never expected.
The sound of someone fumbling with keys outside brought you back to earth. The lock rattled and turned forcefully.
You leaned forward over the kitchen counter so that the front door was in your line of sight. Joe marched through the foyer towards your bedroom. He breezed past you without making eye contact. His lips were pressed together, eyes laser-focused on your bedroom door.
Not a great sign, but you can’t say you expected him to float in all cheery either.
“What’s your dress size?”
The question caught you off guard. Your eyes searched for headphones in his ears or a phone in his hand.
Nope. He was definitely talking to you.
Joe swung open the bedroom door and kept stomping towards the closet. “You still have that long one in here? The one you wore to Poppy’s wedding?”
His tone was urgent, but genuinely curious. It dawned on you that he wasn’t mad. The man was just concentrated on some sort of mission.
“Yes, but Joe... why-”
“Aha!”
You were interrupted by the sound of hangers clanging against each other and the rustling of fabric.
Joe popped back into view, proudly holding the pastel, floor-length dress you had worn as a member of the wedding party. He held it against his body and smirked, satisfied. Joe almost seemed like he wanted it for himself.
“Why do you need my dress?” you laughed lightly. Whatever game Joe was playing was somewhat of a relief. You didn’t even care that he was making a mess of your closet. It was a badly needed distraction.
“We are going to a red carpet,” Joe stated matter-of-factly.
“We?” you asked, horrified. And just like that, this was no longer a distraction. You became hyper aware of the elephant in the room.
Joe tossed the dress on your bed and waltzed out into the kitchen. He offered you his open palm and that playful smile that made him impossible to turn down.
You accepted.
“You and me, darling. I talked to Christie and you have an invite.” His fingers laced through yours and gave a squeeze.
Ah, yes. Christie. In charge of all things events and appearances.
You wanted to ask him if now was really the best time to have a hundred (more) photos taken of you, because surely these are not ideal circumstances for a red carpet debut. Instead, you opted for a simple “why am I invited?”
“Fine. You weren’t named per say. But, I get a plus one.” Joe pulled you into his chest swiftly. You gave into the hug and settled your chin on his shoulder.
“You always get a plus one. You just never use it,” you dismissed.
You listened as Joe proceeded to explain that this time was different. It was a big awards show and all your friends would be there. You could sit with Maya, and her friend you met the other week, and Jamie, and -
Jamie.
He really must not know.
Secretly, you were waiting for the day you could step out into public and show each other off without caring about the repercussions. But your future trajectory had just been altered and you could see it clearly: You would walk the carpet with Joe, people would recognize you, and soon enough you would be accused of sleeping with every actor on a Netflix series. Joe would never go for it.
“Come as my girlfriend this time,” he spoke against your temple, just above a whisper.
Shit.
The way he called you his girlfriend made your stomach flutter. You bit the inside of your lip, trying to hold down a reaction.
“What do you think?” Joe pulled away just enough to see your face. He hesitated, eyes scanning your uneasy expression. “What are you looking at me like that for?”
You didn't want to say no and deny him all this newfound excitement, but you knew Joe would change his mind the minute he saw the headlines. Ripping off the band-aid is always better, but why did it feel like you were about to tell a child Santa isn't real?
“Joe...” you looked at the floor. “I just think now is the-”
“Perfect time?”
Your head snapped back up at him. No, Joe. What the fuck?
The look of shock on your face perfectly echoed your thoughts. For a second, you saw a smile creeping up Joe’s cheeks, but he quickly swiped a hand over his mouth and jaw.
You had it all wrong. He was amused. Of course he already knew.
You exhaled a deep release of tension you didn’t realize you were holding in. The relief of not having to drop the tabloid bomb on Joe was so sweet.
Joe took your relaxation as a signal to pull you close again. This time it was the gentle we-will-be-alright kind of hug. You stayed like that long enough to hear each other’s breathing.
“ ’Course I saw the internet. Kinda unavoidable, right?” Joe pressed his lips above your collarbone. “The PR reps kept saying something along the lines of ‘Don’t take her out in public. It’s too soon. They’ll recognize her. Let it blow over first.’ or something like that.”
You stepped back and opened your mouth to interject, to remind him that they were probably right.
“But-” his fingers grabbed at your hips, begging for pause. “If they tell us to hide from it, even the more reason not to. It will be the perfect way to give a middle finger to the gossip columns,” he added. “I can say ‘fuck you. Nice try. This one’s mine.’”
This one’s mine. Heart squeeze.
Joe released his hold on your torso only to lean back on the kitchen counter. He paused to let his words hang in the air, looking content with the hope of a counterattack.
“Admit it," he hummed. "It would be fun to knock the wind out of them."
Despite his confident tone, you caught Joe searching your face, hoping he wouldn't see a hint of doubt. You stood in silence, still running through all the potential outcomes in your mind.
“This whole ordeal made me realize that I’m sick of bending to everyone else's will,” he continued. “Those paps think they beat you to your own debut! Don’t let them have that. We can still step out on our own terms.” Joe tossed his arms out wide, gesturing at the home you now shared. “This isn’t new and fragile anymore. We are solid. It’s the right time...” he trailed off.
Joe was interrupted by a phone ping. He pulled the device from his pants pocket and flipped the screen around to show you the notification.
New text message from: Dad
“...and I want to brag about you to somebody other than my dad for once.”
Joe finally earned an unrestrained laugh from you and noticeably relaxed at the sound. His dad was a pure soul who never claimed to mind hearing any of Joe's stories. But one could argue that Joe needed to talk someone else's ear off for a change.
You collected yourself and gave Joe a serious stare. “On one condition.”
“Yes?”
“I’m not wearing a bridesmaid dress to a red carpet.”
Joe held his hands up in defense. “’ Course not! You think so little of me. I was just trying to get your size.”
“Joe,” you shook your head disappointedly. A classic manly error. “Two things about women’s clothing: every brand fits differently and nothing nice ever fits perfectly off the rack.”
Joe, now recognizing his mistake, shot up and scurried over to the kitchen cabinets. He rummaged through shelves and drawers, tossing spare pens and plastic bags aside.
“Joe-”
“Do we have a tape measure?”
“Not a flexible one, no. But-”
“Let me call someone," he mumbled. You watched as he scrolled through contacts in his phone and sent off several quick messages.
"I’ll schedule someone to come to take your measurements. Should I go ahead and invite the stylist? I suppose we should both be in Dior." He stalled pensively. "Is wearing different designers a breach of etiquette?”
As if you had the expertise to answer that.
Normally, Joe went with the flow. He let designers put him in whatever they wanted as long as he was comfortable. By stressing over an article of clothing, he was showing a whole new side of himself.
“Joe. I didn’t mean it like that. It isn’t that big of a deal.”
He looked up at you with a jokingly dumbfounded expression and blinked a few times. “That big of a deal?" Joe jabbed a finger in your direction. "Watch yourself. That's my girlfriend you are talking about.”
You drifted over to Joe and gave him a playful nudge. “Your girlfriend? That’s nice to hear," you said smugly. "For a second I thought I was ‘Jamie Campbell Bower’s mystery woman’...”
Joe rolled his eyes and held up a hand as if to ward off more jokes. “Don’t get me started with Jamie.”
You laughed, realizing that Joe hadn’t brought up Jamie once in the entire conversation. “Why? Does he think he stole your woman?”
"Worse," he muttered. "Been in my ear all day about how you stole him from me."
[]
#joe quinn#joseph quinn#joseph quinn x reader#joseph quinn fanfic#joe quinn x reader#joe quinn fanfic#fluff#faithinus writing
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Voulez-Vous? - part i
Mencken's ego takes a hit when Harriet's eye wanders to the newly elected French president. In response, he engineers a grand state dinner, turning diplomatic affairs into a battlefield of jealousy.
part of the "before there's hell to pay" universe: part i - part ii - part iii
pairing: jeryd mencken x original female character. 4k
warnings: affairs, unhealthy relationships, dubious morality, explicit language, age difference, smut, religious imagery & symbolism, unprotected sex, pov first person, the french
a/n: lmao so... this idea came to be thanks to @rxgirlie and i's obsession with a current french actor known for playing a lawyer in a film (iykyk), so picture him as marcel reynaud (who will make his appearance in the second part). thank you so much to Kels and my friend Lu @nyheartbreak for proofreading and encouraging me to post this.
Read on AO3.
It all started with an online poll. The Buzzfeed type of crap you read while waiting for the clock to strike 5 pm in your crummy little open space office.
“The definitive list of the 10 hottest presidents”
Usually, despite his very alienating politics, Mencken would place number one. What can I say? Everyone loves a bad boy, especially one they can fix with sex. Attention was brought to his steely gaze, the danger and confidence he exuded in his speeches, and his past as a 90s rock band member:
“Okay but 90s Mencken??? Twink goals, honestly😍”
“Mencken got me like 😱🔥”
“I never thought I'd say this, but Jeryd Mencken, you're kinda hot 😅 “
“He is such a silver fox zaddy 🦊”
His unofficial title became “Silver Fox in Chief”, and it gave us tabloid fodder for when we wanted to deflect from his racist dog whistles and controversial actions in D.C., which was a lot of the time for very obvious reasons. We were like puppet masters pulling the strings, orchestrating this wild media circus around Mencken. It was a classic ATN move, redirecting attention from the messy stuff and instead shining the spotlight on Mencken's supposed charm.
We brainstormed catchy hashtags and encouraged people to share their favorite Mencken moments online. It was all about creating a narrative that suited our agenda – making him this irresistible figure, a distraction from the serious issues at hand. We knew how to play the game, and damn, did it work. The internet ate it up, and suddenly, Mencken was not just a president; he was a phenomenon.
The internet had found a new obsession; fancams flooded the internet– from the way he adjusted his tie to the subtle glances he threw at the camera during press conferences. TikTok became a breeding ground for creative edits, with old concert footage seamlessly synchronized to modern pop hits, each video racking up millions of views and fueling the ever-growing fandom.
Twitter experienced a constant Mencken presence. Anytime the president made a public appearance or donned a new suit, his name would surge to the top of trending lists. The online obsession transcended political boundaries; even those who vehemently disagreed with Mencken's policies found themselves unable to resist his allure.
His press conferences were now attended not just by political journalists but also by entertainment reporters eager to capture the latest juicy details about the "hottest president" phenomenon. Mencken, bemused and enjoying the attention, tried to redirect the conversation to policy matters, while also stoking the fires with quips and acknowledgments of his sex symbol status.
His fanbase (which consisted of both ironic and genuine fans) even created a nickname for themselves: the “Mencken Fuckers”. They organized themselves into a formidable online community. They created fan art, fan fiction, and even fan-made music videos that further propelled the president into pop culture stardom. The group's ironic name didn't deter their dedication; they wore it as a badge of honor, unapologetically reveling in their unconventional admiration for the leader of the free world.
One such video caught my undivided attention while doomscrolling through TikTok late at night. It was one created with candid moments in which I appeared beside him, laughing and talking with Lana Del Rey’s song “Let The Light In” playing in the background. The chemistry between the both of us, set against the dreamy soundtrack, fueled speculation and excitement among the Mencken Fuckers. It both amused and mortified me how close to the actual truth they were.
Caption: "Is it just me, or are these two looking like the ultimate power duo? 👀💼💫 #CloseEncounters #PoliticalChemistry"
Comments:
1. @ShipperSupreme: Move over romance novels, this is the love story we didn't know we needed! 😂❤️
2. @CuriousMinds: Are we witnessing the birth of a new power couple? 👫💫
3. @LaughingWithLana: Lana Del Rey's song just makes this whole thing even more iconic! 🎶🔥
4. @Daydreamer_Deluxe: I ship it! 😍💘 Who needs reality when we can have this fantasy?
5. @RealityCheck: Wait, are we calling them #Menkenriet or #Harren now? 🤔
6. @CupidInTheComments: My arrows of love have found a new target! 💘🏹
7. @PoliticalLoveAffairs: Move aside, political drama; we're here for the romance! 🇺🇸❤️
I couldn’t help myself, I sent the link to Mencken, who after some technical wrangling on his part “I’m 54, of course I’m not gonna have Tik Tok installed for fuck’s sake” finally saw it.
The ringing of the phone cut through the silence of my empty apartment, startling General Meow from her nap and sending her scurrying toward the living room. I sighed, muttering to myself about the timing, and picked up after the first ring, feeling like a good little lap dog.
"Hey there, Mencken," I greeted, smirking to myself as I imagined his perplexed expression on the other end. "Ready for a little adventure in the world of internet?"
Mencken's voice echoed through the line, confusion lacing every word, "Harriet, what in the hell is going on? Why are people shipping us? Are we supposed to be getting something delivered?"
Suppressing a laugh, I explained, "No, Mencken, it's not about deliveries. It's a term they use on the internet when people want two characters or real people to be in a romantic relationship. They call it 'shipping.'"
There was a brief pause before Mencken asked incredulously, "Shipping? Like cargo and ships?"
I chuckled, covering my mouth to stifle the laughter. "Not quite. It's short for 'relationship.' They think we're the ultimate power couple, Mencken."
"Is this some kind of secret code or a new political term I missed in my briefings?" Mencken's confusion was palpable.
I couldn't help but tease, "No secret code, just internet slang. They're imagining us as this influential and glamorous duo."
Another pause, then Mencken's voice returned, this time more incredulous, "You're telling me there are people out there who think we're having an affair? With each other?"
"Yep, that's the gist of it. Welcome to the world of shipping, Mencken. It's a strange place," I replied, my grin growing wider. “And they've even given us a ship name – #Menckenriet. Catchy, right?" I couldn't help but enjoy the absurdity of it all.
Mencken sighed on the other end, probably shaking his head, "I can't believe this is happening."
"Embrace the fame, Mencken! Who knows, maybe we'll start a new trend in political shipping," I teased, still grinning.
There was a long-suffering sigh from Mencken. "I don't have time for this nonsense. I have a country to run."
"Your loss, Mencken. #Menckenriet could've been the political love story of the century," I quipped.
As I prepared to hang up, he interjected with a serious tone, "Wait, do they actually know about us... you know, being intimate?"
My playful demeanor faltered for a moment. "No, Mencken. It's just speculation and fantasy. They don't know anything for sure."
Mencken sounded relieved, "Good. Let's keep it that way."
But before I could end the call, he added in a soft voice, "Clear up your schedule. I'm gonna drop by during the weekend."
Since Rome, Mencken's hard veneer had chipped away. He made more time for me, wasn't as mean – well, still an asshole, but, as he put it, "Your asshole, sweetheart.”
“Well, aren't you so romantic,” I mused mostly to myself, a wry smile playing on my lips.
“Yeah, well, I figured life's too short to be a constant jerk. Besides, dealing with you is marginally less irritating than dealing with most people," I couldn't suppress a laugh. High praise, indeed. Looking forward to the weekend then.
As the call concluded, I imagined Mencken shaking his head and muttering, "I'm too old for this." I let out a loud hyena cackle which leaves General Meow staring at me with her wide green eyes.
______________________________________________________________
And then the French presidential election happened.
It was a tight race between three players, each one from a widely different part of the political spectrum. On one hand, the far-right candidate, the heiress of the National Rally, Marine Le Pen, was Mencken's pick. On the other hand, the incumbent President, Emmanuel Macron, stood as a centrist, aiming to maintain stability and balance in turbulent times. The third contender, Marcel Reynaud, a charismatic socialist from the left, caught the attention of many with his passionate speeches and a boyish yet distinguished appearance, with graying hair that hinted at wisdom beyond his years, reminiscent of a Dostoevsky prince.
As the campaign unfolded, Marcel Reynaud's popularity soared. His fiery rhetoric and genuine connection with the people resonated across various demographics. The public, weary of the traditional political dichotomy, found in him a fresh and appealing alternative. The French, tired of voting for the lesser of two evils, began to rally behind Reynaud, drawn by the promise of a new era and genuine change.
Reynaud's physical presence added an extra layer to his appeal. Imagine a man with rugged charm, grey tousled hair that hinted at rebelliousness, and piercing blue eyes that conveyed both intensity and empathy. His speeches, delivered with conviction, echoed a vision of a more inclusive and socially just France.
Election day arrived, and the people of France turned out in record numbers. The results trickled in, each update intensifying the suspense. When the final count was announced, it was Marcel Reynaud who emerged as the victor. The socialist left candidate had secured a historic win, breaking the stronghold of the traditional political forces.
As the news of his victory spread, so did the memes, fan art, and adoring posts dedicated to Marcel Reynaud. Internet users affectionately dubbed him the "French boyfriend," and hashtags like #ReynaudRevolution and #MarcelMania trended worldwide. He quickly dethroned Mencken as the hottest president online, captivating not just the French public but garnering attention on the global stage.
The internet was flooded with swooning comments about Reynaud's “elf” vibes, and fan accounts dedicated to his every move and policy decision multiplied. Memes comparing him to heroes from literature circulated, portraying him as the embodiment of a modern-day romantic lead. His charisma had transcended politics; he had become a symbol of a new era, both politically and personally.
______________________________________________________________
Mencken was not impressed. Despite being in his mid 50s, he still was a petty child underneath it all, mad about the spotlight being taken off him and given to a soy boy from France of all places.
The ping of random texts, accompanied by a distinctive ringtone reserved exclusively for him, never failed to jolt me with a thrill, whether I was immersed in work or drifting off to sleep – a Pavlovian response he found pathetically endearing.
M "Just saw another damn article about Marcel Reynaud. 🙄 Apparently, he's the new poster boy for socialism. What a load of crap."
H: "Oh, Mencken, you're just jealous that Reynaud's stealing the limelight. 😏”
M: "Another day, another interview with Reynaud. 📰 Can't escape the guy. Do you think he practices that brooding stare in the mirror?"
H: "Maybe he's born with it, maybe it's political strategy. 🤷🏻♀️"
M: "Thoughts on Marcel's new hairstyle? 💇♂️ Trying to figure out if he's attempting a political rebrand or just desperately needs a barber."
H: "Maybe he's channeling the winds of change through his hair. 😂 At least he's keeping things interesting. You should try it sometime."
M: "Harriet, tell me you didn't fall for the hype. 🤨 The French might adore their 'heartthrob,' but I know you have better taste."
H: "Of course not, Mencken. I only have eyes for the 'old and grumpy' type. 😉
To that last text he replied with a hilariously outdated “fuck yea” meme, highlighting how out of touch he could be sometimes.
______________________________________________________________
In one of our romantic getaways, (if you can call secretly meeting in a pre-swept room with Secret Service agents hanging outside the door romantic) he once again brought up le problème.
We had dinner from Dorsia’s to-go in my apartment, with General Meow eyeing our food from her own seat at the table. I tried to make conversation but Mencken's answers were clipped, a subtle giveaway that something was amiss. I took it all in stride, already accustomed to his mercurial moods. I knew that he was stressed about something and that once we fucked, he would relax and the tension would dissipate.
Wanting to make up for missing a couple of our dates, he takes me for a drive around the city in a sleek black car with tinted windows, a partition separating us from the chauffeur. The sound of muffled traffic and a bossa nova playlist was our soundtrack, as we furiously make out like teenagers on their way to prom. He’s quiet except for the sighs that escape his lips. I get needy and he likes it, petting me the same way he does my cat. The similarity does not escape me. His hands begin to go lower until they eventually find my hot center and he smiles against my mouth as he realises I’m not wearing panties. Mencken's voice, low and husky, breaks the silence as he whispers, "You always know how to keep things interesting, Harriet."
I respond with a teasing smile, my voice a breathless whisper, "Well, Mr. President, I aim to please."
His fingers continued their exploration, tracing patterns of fire on my clit. “Mr. President? You're playing a dangerous game," he murmured, his lips trailing hot kisses along my neck as he slips two fingers into me.
The combined sensation sends shivers down my spine. I cry out of pleasure and I am thankful for the soundproofed privacy the partition offers us. Eager to reciprocate, my hand instinctively moved toward his belt, but Mencken halted my advance with a gentle yet firm grip.
“Not here, better in the hotel room,” he whispered, his breath warm against my ear. The promise of what awaited us hung tantalizingly in the air.
Our destination was a high-rise hotel he had booked, soaring 68 floors into the city skyline. It was quintessentially Mencken, reveling in the sensation of being the most powerful man even during sex. The car eased into a lull inside the hotel's basement parking lot, providing a moment for me to compose myself while awaiting the Secret Service's assurance that the coast was clear.
Mencken eyes me mockingly. “You do realise they all know what we’re just doing in here and what we’re about to do in that room”.
I roll my eyes and reply, “A girl has to keep some secrets. Adds to the intrigue, doesn't it?"
He smirks, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Well, let them think what they want. It's not like we've ever been ones to play by the rules."
With a final nod from the Secret Service, Mencken opens the car door, ushering me out. The hotel's opulent lobby awaits us, and I can't help but feel a rush of excitement. The atmosphere is hushed, with the discreet professionalism one would expect in such an establishment.
He is rough, manhandling me immediately after we cross the threshold of the room.
The door closes behind us, and the plush interior of the room envelops us in a cocoon. The dim lighting casts a sultry ambiance, amplifying the energy that crackles between us.
Mencken turns to face me, his eyes filled with a hunger that matches my own. With a swift move, he captures my lips in a kiss, his hands roaming possessively over my body. In the intimate space, he pins me against the door, a delicious urgency in his touch. His kisses travel from my lips down to the curve of my neck, igniting a cascade of shivers. The feeling lights me whole like a star. He grabs my hand and leads towards the floor to ceiling windows, the quiet city completely unaware of what is about to unfold. Mencken's eyes lock onto mine, a silent communication passing between us. With a heated intensity, he guides me onto my knees, the plush carpet beneath feeling cool against my skin.
My hands find their way to his belt, fingers working deftly to release him. His cock is already half hard, forming a wet patch on his boxers. I pull them down to spring him free and my tongue reaches out in anticipation. In that moment, the world outside seems to fade away, leaving the two of us suspended in time. His fingers tangle in my hair, a silent encouragement to continue the exploration. As my lips inch closer to their destination, I can feel the heightened tension in the room. His arousal is palpable, the air charged intensity. I wet my mouth, preparing to take him in, and our eyes lock as my lips envelop him. A shiver runs through Mencken's body, and the room echoes with his moans of pleasure.
As the sensations escalate, Mencken's husky voice breaks the silence. "Harriet," he says, a blend of urgency and pleasure in his tone. I smile at him, as much as one can smile with a mouthful of cock. Yet, he knows—I look at him with such adoration as if I were in prayer and him my patron saint. The city outside may slumber in blissful ignorance, but within these four walls, I hold the most powerful man in the world in my grasp.
I alternate between licking his length and kissing his tip, his skin flushing to a delicious shade of pink. “Adorable” is definitely not the best adjective to describe him, nevertheless it is the word that comes to your mind. Yes, this man who can be quite vicious and spew the most hateful vitriol can also exhibit a human side. In those rare moments when it's just the two of us, away from the public eye, I get a glimpse of a softer side that few get to witness. This only eggs me on, and I fasten my maneuvers until he can barely keep standing still.
Just when I’m about to finish him off, he jolts me up and pushes me into the bed, covering me with his body, engulfing me. He stays still for a few seconds and places his wedding band covered hand protectively over my neck. He stares at me deeply and suddenly feeling self conscious I look away.
"Harriet…” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. His hand moves towards my chin and commands me to look straight at him. “Look at me, please”.
And I do. His thumb brushes gently over my cheek, and he leans down to place a soft kiss on my lips. "You're incredible, you know that?" he whispers, his words a mixture of admiration and desire.
He seems more expressive tonight, a departure from his usual sour demeanor. “Yeah, I am very well aware of it, thank you for the reminder.” I decide to inject a bit of humor into the situation. While I appreciate this more open side of him, it's honestly weirding me out a bit.
He rolls his eyes, “Don’t get cocky.”
“Shut up. Quick, kiss me again, old man.”
He smirks, leaning in for another kiss. Our lips meet, and the intensity between us reignites. We make quick work of our clothes, and he has me on all fours facing the window. I try to push away the thought of him imagining fucking the city in that egomaniac head of his. As he roams my body, I focus on the sensation, letting the pleasure wash over me. The position lets him get in much deeper, which combined with one hand pulling my hair and the other spanking me on the ass, makes me go crosseyed and incoherent.
“Oh shit, fuck! Oh my god”, I gasp in between moans. This goads him into increasing his thrusts and to reply with possibly the most cliche response ever.
“Nope, just me”, he snarls.
“Ugh, just shut up and fuck me, you asshole”, I groan out both in pleasure and cringe.
He pulls me up while still inside me so my back is against his chest. His calloused fingers come to rest on breasts and my clit, both rotating and pinching me in exquisite pleasure. Inside I get hot white and my vision goes out as the tautness that has been growing explodes. Mencken follows closely, my pussy milking him until he comes inside of me.
The soft glow of the bedside lamp bathes the room in a warm aura as Mencken and I fall in tangled limbs. With the air thick with a heady mixture of contentment and the smell of sex, Mencken, typically stoic post coitus, couldn't resist diving headfirst into banter.
His eyes wandered to the ceiling, contemplating the subject that had crept into his thoughts. "You know, I can't help but think about the French election."
I turned to him, raising an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Oh, so now you feel like talking. Do tell. Is there a particular candidate you find captivating? Is this why you were so broody this evening?”
Mencken's lips curved into a smirk, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Marcel Reynaud, the so-called heartthrob. I fail to see what the fuss is about."
I propped myself up on an elbow, ready for the snarky exchange that was bound to follow.
"Well, Mencken, not everyone can appreciate his charm. Or perhaps, you're just not into the whole 'French boyfriend' craze?"
Mencken scoffed, dismissing the idea with a wave of his hand.
“Oh, please! He's just another commie with a mediocre appeal. Looks like he belongs in some sad Eastern European gay porn."
I couldn't help but burst into laughter at his blunt assessment.
"Oh, Mencken, you have such a way with words. I suppose, in your eyes, only right-wing politicians can be easy on the eyes?"
Mencken grinned, his snarkiness unwavering. "Exactly."
Teasing him further, I continued, "Well, you can't deny he's got a certain je ne sais quoi. Maybe you're just jealous that the internet's boyfriend title slipped away from you."
Mencken scoffed again, feigning indifference, “Jealous? Hardly."
Chuckling, I replied, "Of course not, Mencken. Your appeal is far too sophisticated for the masses."
“Wait, you really find him hot? You have the most powerful man in the world in your bed but you still are thinking about some third-rate European lefty? He isn’t even a full president, he has a fucking prime minister!”
“Woah there, I thought you weren’t jealous.”
“I’m just disappointed in you. Really, what happened to your taste?”
He has a plane to catch the next morning. So when he has enough rest, (“I’m an old man, remember?”) he fucks me once again after eating me out, another habit he has picked up from Rome. During the week I have to wear turtlenecks and scarves to cover up the love bites he left over my chest and neck. Immature asshole.
______________________________________________________________
His administration suddenly became very interested in US-France relations. I could practically see the cogs turning in his mind, the wheels of diplomacy greased with a hint of jealousy. The irony wasn't lost on me—the leader of the free world, concerned about a romantic rival from across the Atlantic.
One evening, as we lounged in my apartment with General Meow resting on his lap, Mencken couldn't resist poking at the issue. “Any thoughts on how we can improve diplomatic ties with France? Perhaps organize a state dinner, or maybe I should visit him on a diplomatic mission?”
I exhale a sigh, knowing exactly where he was going with this. “You're the President of the United States. I'm pretty sure there are more pressing matters than cozying up to Marcel Reynaud just because your lover thinks he’s hot.”
He grinned, a playful glint in his eyes. "Well, I just thought it would be a shame if our relations suffered due to my charming French competition."
And so it was decided, a state dinner was on the horizon, orchestrated not just for diplomatic reasons but also as a subtle way for Mencken to flex his presidential prowess in the face of a perceived rival. It was not lost on me that, deep down, this was more about asserting dominance. Men and their petty egos.
In the weeks leading up to the state dinner, Mencken's text arrived, a blend of formality and subtle suggestion. "Pick something nice, my dear. You'll be seated with me and Marcel. Let's make it a spectacular evening."
#succession#jeryd mencken#jeryd mencken x reader#succession fanficion#succession fanfic#justin kirk#succession hbo
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The wrecking of the Steadfast
General Hux finally has what he always wanted! Well, not the Emperor's throne... or the title of Grand-Marshall... or Kylo Ren dead... But he has that mouthy, enervating Poe Dameron helpless at his mercy, and that's a fortune not to scoff at.
However, the General needs the little nusiance and his friends alive to escape from captivity, if he doesn't want get executed for treason by his former comrades. And someone really should do something about that badly damaged star destroyer in orbit, that's generating debris left and right, each piece of space trash threatening to crash into the colony the fugitives are hiding in. Worst trouble a single destroyer has ever given Poe!
Over the course of their escape, the unlikely allies Dameron and Hux turn scarily human in each other's eyes. Is there a chance for their growing bond to survive those few days of having a shared goal?
Read here.
Excerpt:
A few paces to the side Hux sat with his back to the wall. He repeatedly tossed a small rubber ball against a board saying “No Vacancy” (apparently the safe house was officially registered as a vacation home for visitors from the countryside) and caught it again when it rebounded. The pace was much slower than if Poe had played the same game, but even so it was fast enough to make the pilot’s only so recently injured head spin.
“Sit”, Hux said without looking at the arrival.
Poe slid down the wall next to him. When Hux tossed the ball the next time, Poe snatched it on its return.
“Can we talk? In earnest, I mean.”
“I won't try to talk you out of flying tomorrow, but do not expect encouragement from me, either. You know the risks. Do what you want… as you always do.”
“I wanted to talk about Crait.”
Now Poe had the mole’s full attention.
“Crait?! What would there to be discuss about Crait between us?”
“Kylo Ren. You had him out in the open and at point blank range. Why didn’t you order your crew to fire? Why didn’t you remove the one obstacle between you and the throne right there?”
“And they say I’m bad at making friends…”
“Look, Hux, I still haven’t fully recovered, but me and my friends are expected to sleep under the same roof as you tonight. We discussed taking shifts standing watch or locking you up in the broom cabinet to minimize the risk of getting assassinated."
"Oh, did you?"
Acid would have been gentler than the General’s voice in this moment, but Poe had to admit that he wouldn’t have taken this revelation any kinder. His reply would have been more creative, but stung no less.
"Help me understand you! There seems to have been a line you were not willing to cross. That’s quite out of character for you.”
[...]
Now Poe threw himself around with a speed that had to be even less healthy for him than the emotions. He balled his fists and advanced, but stopped short of hitting the enemy officer.
“No way you could have known that!” Poe shouted. “Not that! This song is about the polar opposite of what the First Order stands for!”
How could it be possible that the enemy took everything the rebels held dear, but twisted it? That was worse than destroying something, this claiming of something good for themselves, putting it through the wringer and spitting it out desecrated.
“I sang this song to Ren, in my head, when he waltzed into a council session with a new mask on”, Hux said calmly, with just a hint of glee. “Because, see? He’s worshipping the ashes, Vader’s ashes, and he’s not going anywhere doing so. Whereas I preserve the flame. Four. Beams. In. A. Single. Shot. The sun resulting from the Hosnian cataclysm will still be burning when nobody remembers us anymore.”
“You… bastard…”
Hux’ eyes bore into Poe’s. They were pure ice, despite all the talk of fire, cold, but not uncaring. To the contrary, the icicle’s sharpness cared a lot, but what it cared about was to cause pain.
“Finally woken up, little pilot?” Hux barked. “Good for you. Who do you think you are to "test" me for indoor privileges?! I’m not you guys’ pet, not the tamed danger! A war trophy, maybe, but even that remains to be seen. You can’t decide what to do with me, as if I were a frog your kid has brought into the house! I sleep where I decide to…”
There was a short, uncomfortable pause, uncomfortable for the General, that was, seeing what had briefly flashed through his mind. But then he decided to just run with it and shouted:
“…and if that’s YOUR bed, you’ll shut up and like it!”
And with these words he rose and strode into the house. As confidently as his still not fully healed leg would allow, anyway.
In the common room BB-8 turned his head away from a holographic game he had been playing with [an OC]. He now fixed his gaze on Hux and, as the droid assumed, Poe entering the house behind him. Since BB-8 was the one projecting the gaming field, it now fell over Hux. White and black dots on a grid obscured his sight and in a reflex he tried to wave them away.
Suddenly realizing that Hux had come in alone, that there was no Poe anywhere in sight, BB-8 deactivated the game and rolled towards the door at top-speed, deliberately tripping the General. Whatever had occurred between him and Poe, it was painfully obvious that they hadn’t parted as friends.
Second time flat on my belly in as many days. And again in full sight of the rebels….
[...]
Hux hadn’t expected to fall to sleep this fast. As a result he woke up so early that it was still night. In the bed standing at a right angle with his, Poe’s hand had slipped free from under the covers and was dangling over the edge. How typical! The little barbarian didn’t care one bit about how he was presenting himself to the world. Not that it would have mattered in any way, shape or form, normally. But in his current condition sleeping like a heap of droids in the Lost and Found office could be detrimental to Poe’s recovery.
Giving in to an impulse, Hux reached out, intent on putting the hand back where it belonged. He wasn’t prepared for it to twitch and the fingers to curl as if to clamp the attacker down. Since it was too late to retract his own hand, Hux went for the only option left to him: at least squeeze the other’s hand instead of letting it capture him.
Poe blinked. “Huh?”
“Don’t ask. Just. Don’t ask. So tired of your shit…”
“Yeah, same here!”
As if it wasn’t him, who had to clean up after every mess Snoke, Ren and Hux had caused to the galaxy for years now! Poe had entered his thirties and imagined his life differently, but here they were, fighting a war same as their parents before them had done, yet the First Order General had the nerve to complain to HIM? Sure, you have it so hard…
But then again, locked in each other’s grasp now they were just two people who had woken up in the middle of the night, and in this state pretty much every hand felt the same. This hand Poe was holding had killed and tortured, but it wasn’t incapable of caressing and comforting, too. There just had never been any reason to for it.
“Is there a chance you might let go?” Hux asked, albeit without making any effort to wiggle free.
“Not even if you directly asked me to, no.”
Back to sleep Poe’s mind went. And so they lay, holding hands. After a while Hux had fallen asleep again, too.
By morning both their hands hang over the edge. They must have let go of each other, but they couldn’t remember when that had happened, so they pretended it had never been a thing in the first place.
For what was there to their “bond”, viewed rationally? Poe Dameron had hit his head, he wasn’t thinking clearly. And Armitage Hux was alone in unfamiliar territory, a situation that left a member of the incredibly social species that was humankind no choice but to attach themselves, even if that meant fraternizing with the enemy. There was nothing surprising here, or particularly deep and especially nothing lasting.
[...]
Hux shook Poe by the shoulder.
“Waky-waky, rebel scum!”
“Uh… Is it morning already?”
“Uh-huh. How are you in the spot where other people have their brains?”
“Fine, I think. Your leg?”
“The injury is still noticeable, but not what I’d call painful. A bit annoying.”
“That does translate into lowered reaction speed, though.”
“You tell me!” A frown, quickly followed by a smile. “So, General Dameron, do you want to sit this mission out and play Pazaak together in the infirmary?”
My new rank… Quick, translate Hux to human speech, what does he mean to convey? Ah, right. Acknowledging the rank granted to me by the military of a political body he doesn’t recognize as legit is like offering first name terms. And actually better than if he had done that. I certainly don’t respect this man as a person, but he really is a competent strategist.
“Tempting, Grand-Marshal", Poe returned the offer. "But seeing how we fared last time we entered one, I have to pass.”
[...]
“Ready to go?” Finn asked.
Rose, Poe and the droids replied affirmative, then five sets of sensors focused on the defector. Having a second engineer next to Rose and a sixths body overall with them would be helpful, of course, but bringing Hux along was still a risk.
Hux swallowed the last of his tea. He understood that acting naturally was his best bet now, if he didn’t want to get left behind tied up (and probably having killed one of the rebels before they overpowered him). Unfortunately “acting naturally” for Armitage Hux boiled down to striking a pose and giving a speech:
“Recently I found myself thinking that with you by my side I’d made it to the top, after all. The way you reacted to each of my leaks, putting your expanded knowledge to the best effect, was a joy to watch. Very different from how one imagines disorganized anarchists. It’s not the compliment you want to hear, I’m sure, but I look forward to our mission together. At the very least it should be interesting.”
It seemed to have worked, because the next moment they were sitting in a speeder and were on their way to the space port.
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Chaos Theory | Michael Kinsella x Reader
Chapter 24: Bandaids Don’t Fix Bullet Holes
Masterlist ° Chapter List
Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader (she/her)
Summary: While Michael meets with his solicitor, you're stuck at his house, and you slowly start going crazy. A visit from a particular someone drives you even crazier.
Warnings: Angst, Frank (yes, that's a warning)
Word Count: 3.2k
A/n: I've finally gotten around to finishing this chapter. It might not be as exciting as you guys hoped it would be, but I have a plan for the next following chapters and I had to leave space for that, which is why this isn't as plot heavy as I intended it. (Also, I’m not sure about the title, but I’ve run out of songs to use)
You’re still tired when you wake up the next morning, but the sadness that overcame you the day before has been replaced by emptiness. You just feel numb now, but it’s better than being in pain.
Michael has an appointment with his solicitor this morning. Your blood burns your insides when you think about being left alone for the day. His family surrounds you. Not literally, thank God, but with them living on the very street Michael does, it feels as if they’re caging you in like a zoo animal.
You tried to convince him to let you go home, but he insisted that you stay in his house until he’s back so he can make sure that you’re safe. His house has a better security system in place than your own home, and after everything that was unraveled the other day, he would rather not take any chances until he has figured out how serious the repercussions of Frank’s actions will be.
They blew up Michael’s phone all day yesterday, but ever since he blew them off, no one has been brave enough to his house in person. It has been otherwise quiet, too. Thankfully. Still, you can’t help but be wary.
You’re sitting in bed with your legs pulled up to your chest, resting your cheek on your knees as you watch him rummage through his wardrobe to get ready. Today is an important day to him and he doesn’t want to risk making a bad impression, no matter how big the chaos around him is.
You called in sick from work. You can’t stand being around people, let alone put on a fake smile. The scent of coffee makes you nauseous. To top that off, your hand is still swollen, bandaged, and your knuckles have started getting irritated. Any doctor would have told you the same thing Michael did; your wrist is sprained and you need to rest your hand, which means that work is off the table.
You know you’re going to use up all of your sick days if you keep going like this, but at this point, there are no worries on your mind. None but one, and that is your sister. Okay, maybe you’re overthinking about a little more than that, but you refuse to acknowledge that or you will drive yourself crazy.
At least Michael’s house smells like safety. You can’t describe it, but the comfort his scent engulfs you in makes this a little easier, even with the separation anxiety eating you alive like a flesh-eating amoeba.
“Hey,” his soft voice brings you back to reality. It has a bit of a scruff to it, but that’s what makes him so attractive.
The bed dips before you, and you look at him with red eyes. “Are you gonna be alright?” Michael asks, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. “I could call the solicitor and tell her I’ve changed my mind, that I can’t do it today, I…”
You shake your head. The last thing you want is for him to put you over getting his daughter back. The truth about your past, then Jamie’s death, and now the revelation with Frank and Amanda messed with both of your lives, and God knows what else happened in the time you were at work.
The things Michael threw in Frank’s sounded so serious, you can’t imagine that he has fully forgotten them just because of this one appointment. There seems to be more to it, even, and that scares you. It scares you that he’s going through hell and now he’s going through yours too. And you’re forced to go through his, thanks to his family and your inability to stay away.
You have an inkling, but you don’t like what it is telling you, not one bit. You know Michael, and you know how easily he could be pushed to a point where he would do just about anything for the people he cares about. It’s a terrifying prospect that you could lose him.
You shake it off. You’ve already done enough stupid things for the time being. You can’t do this alone anymore, and you don’t have to.
“Go,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll manage. Don’t put your future with Anna at risk just because of me. It’s not worth it.”
Michael’s eyes soften. “Yer always worth it, that’s not–”
“No. Not this time.”
He sighs. “We’ll talk about how to keep your sister safe once I’m back, alright?” It sounds like a compromise. “Just don’t do anythin’ rash ‘til I’m back,” he says.
“I know,” you answer.
“Promise me.”
You open your mouth. An exasperated sigh slips your lips, and he gives you an incredulous look. “Okay, fine,” you cave. “I promise. I won’t do anything rash until you’re back.”
You’re not sure how you’re going to keep it, but he’s right. You can’t do anything rash or you will risk a lot more than your sister’s safety. She’s the most important thing in your life, above all else, and if you put her at risk just because you’re impatient and drowning in your concern… You wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself.
“I’ll be back in a few hours.” Michael leans forward and presses a kiss on your forehead.
You close your eyes and lean into his touch. “I love you,” you whisper.
He smiles right back at you. “You too.”
Michael checks his appearance a few more times in the mirror, and you can tell he’s nervous. He rechecks every document twice, and he repeats every question he prepared himself for in his head.
You want to lift him up, but you’re too low to say anything supportive other than what you feel for him. You hope it’s enough, but you feel useless and numb, and the state you’re in is a horrible middle space between being an exhausted mess and being on high alert. But most of all, the fear never leaves your bones. It has manifested and it’s eating away at your soul.
“After our fight,” you speak up, “I, uh, called the inspector on the case of my sister’s death six years ago.”
He deserves to know.
Michael stops in his tracks and turns to you. “And?” he asks.
You shrug. “I was redirected to Scotland Yard’s official hotline, and the front desk lady told me she would pass my message along, but…” With a defeated sigh, you lower your head and shake it. “He didn’t call me back.”
Michael purses his lips. He’s not mad, you can tell. He probably would have done the same in your position. You took the only road you thought could help you, but it ended up being a dead end, after all. Or maybe you missed something crucial.
“Maybe he’ll call today,” he says almost hopefully. “If he’s anythin’ like ya said, he’ll call eventually. Maybe he’s just… swamped.”
“Or maybe he can’t help me.”
“I’m not going to lie to you.”
You want to kiss him just for that.
“So,” he says, “him not wanting to help or be associated with this case again is somethin’ we need to consider.”
You nod along. He’s right. It’s possible. The truth hurts, but at least it’s true.
Wiping your dry cheeks to prevent yourself from actually crying, you clear the lump in your throat. “Well, regardless, I need to pick up the file,” you add, your voice stronger this time.
He shakes his head. “We can do that once I’m back, alright? Yer not goin’ anywhere without me.”
You don’t have the strength to protest. Michael kisses you again. “Good girl,” he says.
When he turns to leave, you hug him for a little longer than necessary. He rubs your back, knowing it’s hard for you to let him go, but he has to leave. You understand now why he was so clingy the other day, and it hurts to watch him walk out the door and down the street, disappearing out of your sight, and you lock the door the way he told you to.
Against what your brain tells you, you don’t go back to bed. You make yourself a nice cup of coffee and find some toast in the cupboard to make yourself some breakfast, and you force yourself to swallow a few bites for your upset stomach. Maybe that will give you a clear mind.
You spend a few minutes sitting in the backyard, staring out into nature. Every once in a while, you peek over at Jimmy and Amanda’s house. It seems so deserted. You wonder if they fought after you punched her.
Michael and Jimmy don’t seem all too close, but they’re still brothers, and Michael seems to see something in him that you don’t. You don’t need to understand it.
You busy yourself with cleaning for a while. Just as you’re scrubbing the stove, you catch something from the corner of your eye. Your peripheral vision picks up on a silhouette close to the bushes that adorn the sides of Michael’s driveway.
She’s concealed halfway by your car, but you catch a glimpse of the girl’s face that is staring directly into the house, and when she meets your eyes, she gasps and bolts.
Anna.
You know Michael has secretly been watching her just to get a chance to see her, even if it’s from afar. You never expected Anna to come to the house herself.
She was still little when he went to prison and she must be more than curious, but also a little angry because she probably doesn’t know or understand the full truth behind her mother’s death yet. She’s a child, but she’s not stupid.
You open the front door and storm out of the house. You call out, “Anna?” But upon hearing her name, the girl runs faster, and soon enough she has disappeared around the corner in her school uniform.
You sigh. Whether or not you will tell Michael about this depends on how his meeting goes. Now that she saw you, what must she think? Knowing her father whom she hasn’t seen for eight years has a strange woman standing in his kitchen and cleaning it like a mad woman.
By opening the blinds to let in some light, you might have just screwed up in the eyes of a teenage girl and Michael’s daughter, and that fills you with dread because you don’t know if he’s going to process the truth in the way you want him to.
Locking the door behind you again, you draw the blinds closed and return to angrily scrubbing the stove, making the pain in your injured hand worse without even using it, but at least it makes you feel something other than the gaping emptiness deep within your soul. It keeps you from going crazy.
Suddenly, there’s a knock on the very door that you just closed. Startled, you turn around. Goosebumps form on your skin. For a second, you consider what to do. Should you go upstairs and hide? Should you call Michael? Should you grab a knife or the gun behind the fridge?
You move toward the front door, your steps careful and calculated. The knocking intensifies. You can feel yourself quivering in the fuzzy socks you’re wearing.
Then, you hear a faint voice call out your name, and you can see Frank peeking in through the kitchen window. He waves at you as if he can see you through the slits in the blinds. You hold your breath.
“I know you’re in there!” he calls out for you. “I just wanna talk.” There is a pause, and you stand there completely paralyzed until he adds, “It’s about yer sister.”
Your feet carry you the rest of the way to the door and you open it enough to look outside.
“What do you want, Frank?” you snap. “Do you get off on harassing innocent people? Or are you just that stupid?”
He looks at you, and… is that guilt in his eyes? You don’t want to believe it. The audacity he has to show up here and look like that. He’s cruel, he’s vile, he is an asshole and he doesn’t deserve your attention. But he mentioned your sister. After what happened the day before, he knows that you would jump at the mere mention, and that is how he gets you.
“I just wanna talk,” he repeats. “Please.”
“Michael’s not here,” you say. You have to stand your ground. He’s doing this on purpose. He has to be. This man is capable of unspeakable things.
If Michael knew, heads would roll.
“I’m not here to talk to Michael, I told ya. I’m here because o’ you.”
You let out an exasperated sigh. You shouldn’t, you know that you shouldn’t, but your body acts without listening to your common sense. You open the door just enough to let him inside.
This is about Maya, you tell yourself. Whatever he has to say could be important. And you can’t say no to the man who threatened her once before. He is the reason she might be in grave danger. So, whatever he knows, as small as it might seem could help prevent any further damage. And if he’s lying, you can still grab the gun behind the fridge and put an end to this disgusting excuse of a human being.
“Thanks,” Frank throws your way as he steps in, almost as if you’re friends, and you hate that he carries himself with that godawful, confidence-secreting attitude.
Does he not realize what he did? Michael threatened him with a gun and this is how he walks around, with his hair styled and an almost sly smile on his face—it’s just a hint, but it counts, and it makes you feral.
He stands in the kitchen, turning to you. You stand across from him, arms crossed and waiting for him to make a move. You won’t offer him a drink, that’s for sure.
He lets out a long breath eventually, pulling something from his backpocket. You flinch at the sudden movement of his hand, and he lifts them almost as if to reassure you that he isn’t a threat. But to you, he is everything bad and more. You hate him in a way you ever only thought you could hate one person, even though it’s a different kind of hatred nonetheless.
Frank pulls out a small envelope, looking down at it for a moment before slowly extending it to you. You frown at him. He insists you take it, but you’re not sure if you want to see the contents.
“Open it,” he encourages you.
You roll your eyes, reaching for the envelope. The paper feels thin under your fingers, almost rough and worn. It’s barely closed. You only have to pull a little to open it, and when you look inside, you can tell there is a series of pictures waiting for you. You shoot Frank a glare.
“What’s this?” you ask as you take the photographs out of the envelope.
“It’s the pictures my men took of your sister,” he answers.
You stop. “What?!” Your voice echoes. The house isn’t even that big, but you are loud enough for the sound to carry.
“Relax–”
“Relax? You had my sister followed and now you come here after deliberately putting her in danger, telling me to relax? How sick can you possibly be?!”
“They’re the pictures I was plannin’ to have sent to ya so you’d leave Michael alone. I told my men to back off. I promised tha. I don’t like being threatened,” he says. “They’re the only photographs left of her. Swear to God. It’s done. It’s over. Nothin’ more to worry about, alright? So… relax.”
His voice holds a certain edge as if your anger is somehow annoying to him and not at all justified, and only for that you want to use your healthy fist to hit him.
No, you won’t fall for it. You see a glimpse of humanity, but you refuse to let it blind you. People like him know how to fool someone in a crisis like you, and they use that vulnerability to their advantage.
You take out the photographs he gave you. He’s right, it is Maya. Your little sister, all alone and vulnerable. It’s so different to see her walking the streets of London after school, hanging out with the few friends she has, and–
You stop. The last picture has your father in it. The look in his eyes resembles death. He smiles at your weak mother, but there is nothing but evil in his eyes. You can see that he has no soul, he never had one. It makes your stomach churn.
“You’re lying,” you say, but your voice is barely above a whisper. “This was never supposed to happen.”
“Believe me or not, but it’s done,” Frank repeats. “They won’t hurt her, and for the record, I was never plannin’ on havin’ her hurt anyway, but after what you said about your father… You know, we can help–”
“Don’t even start,” you cut him off. “You had men follow my sister and put her in danger because you didn’t think. You were dissatisfied with Michael choosing himself over your twisted family for once in his godforsaken life, and you were ready to let it out on an innocent child you didn’t know instead of taking it up with me. That makes you as much of an asshole as my bastard of a father, and I’ve encountered many people in my life. You threatened me and my sister and that is not something I can just forgive. So forgive me for not trusting you, but you have done nothing to earn it.”
He nods slowly, processing your words and agreeing, “Yer right. For what it’s worth, I’m…” And he struggles to say it. “Sorry,” he says.
You stare at the pictures, then back at Frank. Tears of frustration and pure rage form in your eyes, and they already start pricking at the corners. “Get out,” you say, trying to stay calm.
“C’mon now, let’s not make such a big deal out of it. You know that ya have your own problems and that you’re not ready for what this family brings with it. I just wanted to protect us. I only hurt those that need t’be hurt, not innocent children.”
The urge to punch him grows with every passing second. Every word in your head makes less and less sense as you start losing sight of what’s most important. You want to give in to your anger. You want to be selfish.
But you can’t. You can’t allow yourself to give in. This is not who you are. And Maya wouldn’t want you to lose sight of that as much as she wouldn’t want you to lose sight of her.
“You already hurt her,” you say.
“I didn’t. She’s alive. She’s no longer being followed, and your father has no fuckin’ clue ‘cause my men aren’t that stupid. What more do ya need?”
“Frank,” you spit his name like a snake would dig her teeth into its victim. You’re inching closer to the point of disaster. “I’m going to ask you nicely,” you say, “even though you don’t deserve any bit of my kindness. Get the fuck out of this house or I swear to God, I will make use of the gun Michael keeps around here and shoot your cock off!”
Instead of cowering in fear at your tone, Frank only smirks. He looks surprised, impressed even, but not scared. At this point, you’re boiling like a tea kettle on a gas stove.
“I was wrong ‘bout you,” he says. The sound of impress is laced in every vibration of his vocal cords.
You stretch the fingers of your uninjured hand. He needs to get out. Now.
“If you don’t get out, I will call Michael right now and tell him you harassed me.” It’s your last straw. He doesn’t respect you, so maybe he will respect the man that already bashed his head in.
The next time he comes face to face with him, you know he won’t be as merciful.
You pull out your phone. “I’m sure he’d love to hear what you had to say to me, word for word.” You unlock it and select your boyfriend’s contact at the top of the list. “I have a very good memory, you must know. I can remember conversations pretty vividly.”
Of course, it works immediately. Frank’s face falls. As soon as you mention Michael and the possibility of telling him every last word that was passed between you in the past five minutes, he takes a step toward the door.
“Take care of yourself,” Frank tells you, and you have never been so relieved to watch someone walk away from you as you are now.
You’re quick to lock the door behind him, letting out the breath you had been holding before, and your entire body quivers as you sink to the floor with the photographs in hand. The tears start streaming down your cheeks as the helplessness of your situation settles in.
You’re not sure where to go from here, and it is terrifying.
How much longer can you hold on before everything around you, including the people you love, turns into ashes in front of your very eyes?
Tagging: (let me know if you want to be tagged, too!) @bellaxgiornata @mattmurdocksscars @ms-murdockswift @your-not-invisible-to-me @shouldbestudying41 @glowstick-lesbian @acharliecoxedfan @roseallisonparker @norestfortheshelbywicked @1988-fiend @loveroftoomanyfandoms @mattkinsella @schneeflocky @harperdoodle @ravenclaw617 @lunaticgurly @mattmurdocksstarlight
#michael kinsella x reader#michael kinsella#michael kinsella x f!reader#michael kinsella x you#kin amc#reader insert#charlie cox#chaos theroy#michael kinsella angst#michael kinsella fluff#frank kinsella
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